LIFE 



ROBERT SOUTHEY, LL.D. 



POET- LAUREATE, &c. 



BY v 



CHARLES T. BROWNE. 



LONDON: 
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY 

1854. 






LONDON: 

Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq, 



I 



\ 



PREFACE. 



The present Volume does not aspire to compete 
with the "Life and Correspondence of Southey," 
edited by his Son. It is necessarily less copious 
in detail, less full of familiar and affectionate illus- 
trations of character ; but I have aimed, without 
yielding to any political or literary bias, at giving 
a cheerful narrative of the actions, and an impar- 
tial estimate of the opinions and genius, of ,a man 
whose name is deservedly ranked amongst those 
of our first writers . 

C. T. B. 



Paris, Nov. 1853. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEK I. 

Lineage and Birth of South ey — His Infancy — His First School 
— Curious Incident — Miss Tyler — The Theatre — Misappli- 
cation of Terms Page 1 

CHAPTER II. 

The Character of his Schools — Remarks on Education — His 
Grandmother's House — Visit to Weymouth — Eondness for 
Reading — Attempts at Composition — Habits and Dispo- 
sition — Shadrach Weeks — Preparing for Westminster — His 
Entrance — Public Schools — Anticipations — Life at West- 
minster — Friends — Literary Efforts — The Flagellator — Dr. 
Vincent — Expulsion — Life at Bristol ... 8 

CHAPTER III. 

His Father's Affairs — His Uncle South ey — His Uncle Hill — 
Death of his Father — Matriculates at Oxford — His Feelings 
and Opinions — Life at Oxford — Edmund Seward — Coleridge 
— Trip into Herefordshire — Visit to Brixton — Joan of Arc — 
Views in Life — Pantisocracy ; its Plans, Projects, and Im- 
practicability . . . . . . . ,25 

CHAPTER IV. 

Prospects in Life — Miss Tyler — Dependence upon Literature 
— Lectures at Bristol — Publication of "Joan of Arc" — Return 
of Mr. Hill to England — Southey prepares for a Voyage to 
Lisbon — His Marriage ...... 43 



Vlll CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER V. 

Delay at Falmouth — Character of Mr. Hill — Portuguese His- 
tory — Coruna — Spanish Inns — Description of the Town — 
His Journey — Mules and Bells — Description of Scenery — 
Villages— The Country People— Madrid— The Palace— The 
Theatres — The Fiesta de Novillos — Grand Parade of the 
King — Entrance to Badajos — Adea Gallega — Lisbon — " Let- 
ters from Spain and Portugal" — Character of Southey P. 50 

CHAPTER VI. 

Death of Robert Lovell — His Widow — Opinions — Literary 
Labours — Study of the Law — Life in London — Burton — 
John Rickman — His brother Thomas — Convalescent Asy- 
lum — " Morning Post " — George Burnett — His brother 
Henry — Visit to Norwich — Mr. Taylor — Verses to his 
Wife 66 

CHAPTER VII. 

Westbury — Humphry Davy — " Madoc " — Poetry — Engage- 
ments — Health — Tour through North Wales — Its Scenery 

— Strewing Graves — Play -writing — Literary Reputation — 
Reviews — A Strange Lady — Visit to London — Books — 
Suwarrow — Sabbath Mails — Tour through North Devon — 
Valley of Rocks — Settles at Burton .... 77 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Indisposition of Southey — Return to Lisbon — Alarm at Sea — 
Coast of Portugal — Residence at Lisbon — Literary Labours 

— State of Lisbon — The Government — Condition of the 
People — Crime — Negroes — Charity — Catholicism — Cintra 

— Journey into the Interior — Preparations for quitting 
Portugal 89 



CONTENTS. IX 



CHAPTER IX. 

Return to England — Mr. Drummond — Keswick — Coleridge and 
Wordsworth — Cumberland Scenery — Secretaryship to the 
Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ireland — Celebrated 
Characters — Death of his Mother — Chatterton's Sister 
— Sir Herbert Croft — Birth of a Daughter — House-hunting 
— Literature . Page 100 



CHAPTER X. 

Fondness for the Past — The " Bibliotheca Britannica" — Death 
of his Daughter — Resides at Keswick — His Character — 
Literature — " Madoc " — Specimens of the Modern English 
Poets — Thoughts of visiting Portugal — Visit to Scotland 
— Edinburgh — Ashestiel — Walter Scott — Jeffrey and 
Brougham — Criticism and Reviews . 110 



CHAPTER XL 

Cumberland — The Lakers — Change of Ministry — Expectations 
— Death of his Uncle, John Southey — Pension — Literature 
— European Politics — History of Brazil — Kirke White — Lite- 
rature — Letter to Grosvenor Bedford .... 121 



CHAPTER XII. 

Disagreement between the Editor and Proprietors of the " Edin- 
burgh Review" — Overtures to Southey — Continental Politics 
— Sir Walter Scott withdraws from the " Edinburgh Review" 
— "The Quarterly Review" — Engagement of Southey on it 
— Gifford and his Contributors 138 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Marriage of his brother Henry — Goes to Durham — His Family 

— Canning — Stewardship of the Greenwich Hospital — "The 
Friend" — Ebenezer Elliott — Criticism — "Edinburgh Annual 
Eegister" — William Koberts — Opinions — Death of his Uncle 
Southey — Generosity — Advice to a young Friend entering 
College — Shelley — Assassination of the Hon. Mr. Perceval 
— Politics Page 146 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Engagements — His Family — Annual Register — Quarterly Re- 
view — Life of Nelson — Applications from Literary Aspirants 
— James Dusatoy — Vacant Office of the Laureateship filled by 
Southey — Lord Byron — The Carmen Triumphale — Politics 
— Laureate Odes — Don Roderick, the Last of the Goths — 
Southey's Poetry— Wordsworth's — Immortality . .169 

CHAPTER XV. 

Battle of Waterloo — Public Rejoicings — Visit to the Continent 
— Pilgrimage to Waterloo — Brussels — French History of 
Brazil — Detained at Aix-la-Chapelle — Companions — Ghent 
— Beguinages — Return — Death of his Son — Employments — 
Visits — Owen of Lanark 186 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Lord Liverpool — Southey requested to meet the Prime Minister 

— Means of suppressing Sedition — Observations on the 
Moral and Political State of England — Herbert Knowles — 
Academy of Madrid — Royal Institution of Amsterdam — Wat 
Tyler— The " Times " Newspaper — Tour on the Continent — 
Lakers 200 



CONTENTS. XI 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Offer of Librarianship of the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh — 
His present Powers — His future Prospects — Birth of a Son 
— Method of Study — History of Brazil — Visit to Scotland — 
John Morgan — Bequest of a Lunatic — Biographical Hoax — 
Life of Wesley — Visit to Wales— Degree of LL.D. — Literary 
Labours — Shelley — Life of George Fox— Death of Nash the 
Artist — Boderic, dernier Boi des Goths — Death of Miss 
Tyler Page 213 



CHAPTER XVIIL 

Death of George III. — Vision of Judgment — The Critics — Ame- 
rica — Mr. Ticknor — American Literature — Book of the 
Church — Dr. Channing — Rev. G. Benson — Gifford — Do- 
mestic Expenses — Visit to London — Charles Lamb and the 
Quarterly Review — Criticism and Remarks on " Elia " — 
Rowland Hill — Present of a Bible— Journey to the West' — 
Wesleyan Methodism and Church Government — Morning 
Chronicle, Southey, and Mr. H. Taylor— The Book of the 
Church and the Romanists — Testimonies in its favour — 
Vindiciae Ecclesise Anglicanse .....' 225 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Journey to Holland and Belgium — Brussels — Antwerp — Is laid 
up at Ley den — Mr. Bilderjik — Lowland Hospitality — The 
Hague — Return to England — Literary Labours — A Second 
Visit to Holland — Death of his youngest Daughter — Is 
elected to sit in Parliament for the Borough of Downton — 
Garrick Papers — Foreign Quarterly — Visit to his Uncle — 
Engagements in London . . . . . . 239 ^ 



XU CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEE XX. 

Keview of Southey's Labours — His Hopes and Aspirations — 
Kev. Mr. Shannon— Colloquies of Sir Thomas More, and the 
Eev. J. Hornby — The Church and Methodism — A Cha- 
ritable Institution — Literary Labours — Visit to London — 
Political Excitement — Visit to Hampshire — Crediton — 
Bristol Page 251 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Lord Brougham and the Endowment of Literature — Southey's 
Opinions on the Subject — Character of Education — Obser- 
vance of the Sabbath — Eeform Bill and the Conservatives — 
Dr. Bell — Professorship of Humanity, Glasgow — Essays, 
Moral and Political — The Doctor — Its Publication — Mar- 
riage of his eldest Daughter — Illness of his Wife — State of 
Southey's Feelings 261 

CHAPTEE XXII. 

Offer of a Baronetcy — Pension from the Civil List — Health of 
Mrs. Southey — Southey subpoenaed to the Lancaster Assizes 
— Tour to the West of England — Life of Cowper — Naval 
Biography — Death of Mrs. Southey — Tour on the Continent 

— Calais — Caen — Bayeux — Nantes ■ — Orleans — Paris — 
Eeturn to England — Second Marriage of Southey . 273 

CHAPTEE XXIII. 

The last Scene — Eeview of Southey's Character and Writings 

— Greta Hall 286 



CHAPTER I. 

Lineage and Birth of Southey — His Infancy — His First School 
— Curious Incident — Miss Tyler — The Theatre — Misappli- 
cation of Terms. 

Anno 1774-1780. 

Beneath tlie shadow of the Blackdown Hills, and in 
the beautiful and fertile valley of the Tone, in Somerset- 
shire, lies the elegant little town of Wellington. Here, 
in the yellow pages of the Parish Register, towards the 
end of the seventeenth century, we find the first au- 
thentic notice of the Southey s. Tradition, it is, true, 
faintly asserts that Robert Southey, who married a 
niece, or second cousin, of John Locke, was engaged in 
the Monmouth rebellion, and narrowly escaped the 
tender mercies of the Bloody Assize. There is always 
some heroic legend of this kind floating in the memo- 
ries of families that have become illustrious. However, 
as we have said, the prosy register of Wellington 
introduces Mr. Robert Southey, and his wife Anne, en- 
gaged in the peaceful and pleasant duty of recording 



2 FAMILY ANTECEDENTS. 

that their son Thomas had been admitted into tho 
Christian Church by the rite of baptism in the month of 
October, 1696. 

Robert Southey was a second son ; but we have 
no interest in following the fortunes of the eldest 
branch. The Thomas we have mentioned was a tiller 
of the ground, and yet no boor. His great descend- 
ant records, with quiet pride, that he enjoyed the privi- 
lege of armorial bearings, and belonged, therefore, to a 
superior class of yeomen. 

Thomas Southey 's second son was named after his 
grandfather. Nature had formed him for a rural life, 
but circumstances placed him behind a grocer's counter 
in one of the densest quarters of the metropolis. There, 
instead of the first-fruits of the earth, he dealt in tea 
and currants, until the insolvency of his master sent 
him again adrift upon the world. He was soon, how- 
ever, apprenticed to a Mr. Britton, a linendraper of 
Bristol, and ultimately set up a similar business on his 
own account in that city, where he married Miss Hill, 
daughter of an attorney of Bedminster. His first son 
died when an infant ; but the second, born on the 12th 
of August, 1774, was Robert Southey, destined to be- 
come celebrated as a poet and historian. We record 
the fact advisedly, and purposely indicate the humble 
fortunes of the great writer's ancestors : but we must 
not be confounded with those who find in such circum- 
stances a weapon of detraction. Intellect lends glory 



THE TYLERS AND THE HILLS. 6 

to ancestral honours ; it derives none from them. Who 
would find a topic of applause in the fact that Robert 
Southey might have come in for a share in a property 
of a hundred thousand pounds ? 

The maternal grandmother of the poet married 
twice, and thus connected him with two honourable 
families. Her first husband, Mr. Tyler, claimed a 
remote lineage, and had a seat at Dilwyn, in Hereford- 
shire. At his decease, the widow, who was left with 
three sons and a daughter, married Mr. Hill, himself a 
widower, and father of two children. To this branch of 
his family Southey seems to have been indebted for 
much of his intellectual vigour ; and we may add that 
his uncle, the Rev. Herbert Hill, watched with paternal 
solicitude over his future career. 

The infancy of the future poet, for what reason does 
not appear, was intrusted to the care of a foster-mother, 
who had from childhood been employed as a servant in 
the family. By her he was treated with great 'kind- 
ness ; but it seems that, even as early as the second 
year of his age, he was painfully affected by the dismal 
nursery tales told him. Partly from this reason sensi- 
bility became a prominent feature in his character, and 
made him acutely alive not only to his own sorrows, but 
to the distress and privations of others. 

At a very early age Southey was sent to a Dame 
School in the vicinity of his father's residence, to be 
initiated into the mysteries of the alphabet. His recol- 



4 MRS. POWELL AND HER UGLY EYES. 

lections of this period, however, seem to have been by no 
means pleasant. Mrs. Powell, to whom he had been sur- 
rendered for educational and disciplinarian purposes — 
the torture of the mind as well as the body — was of 
rough aspect, and deficient in that patient kindness 
which children's training requires. Her first appear- 
ance impressed him with more dislike than awe. They 
left him to her charge ; face to face with her — this 
little genius of three years old ! He became the focus 
of numbers of strange eyes, and felt lonely because 
there were no signs of love. So he cried to return 
home, and was, probably, noisy and imperative. Dame 
Powell had too long been invested with the awful power 
of irresponsible authority to feel moved to tenderness 
by the complaints of this sorrowful little thing. The 
lictor was called, and the threatening rod hung over 
him. But he was not to be daunted, and finding that 
his demands to be taken away were not complied with, 
gave a reason for the desire that was in him. " You 
have ugly eyes, I don't like you," he exclaimed; defy- 
ing thus the irritated susceptibility of self-love. But 
might at length prevailed. Mrs. Powell directed his 
juvenile studies for three years, when he was removed 
to a school of higher pretensions. 

That portion of Southey's childhood which was not 
neglected seems to have been controlled with arbitrary 
indiscretion. His mother was a woman of a meek and 
gentle disposition, and, unfortunately, under the sub- 



MISS TYLEK HER CHARACTER AND HABITS. 

jection of a maiden half-sister, a person of very eccentric 
manners and imperious spirit, who resided at Bath. 
To her management the domestic education of Southey 
was intrusted, and in every respect no one could he 
less fitted to undertake that office. The ideas of Miss 
Tyler, on the suhject of training, were formed on the 
most rigid and precise rules. In the arrangement of 
her household there was conspicuous the same order, 
stiffness, and regularity. Not a chair, not a book, not 
a pin, was suffered to he out of its place ; her abhor- 
rence of dust amounted to a mania ; noise was a dis- 
traction ; and, being piously observant of the formalities 
of religion, she studiously prohibited from her youthful 
protege anything that might stimulate the buoyancy of 
his spirits. As she made no allowance for the difference 
of feeling existing in the heart of a child and the 
sobriety of age — an age that had numbered ten times 
his years — it may easily be imagined that he suffered 
little less than a species of torture. In his chair,' when 
in her presence, he had to maintain an immovable, 
upright position. If he ventured forth into the garden, 
or indulged in the semblance of play, his clothes were 
to be kept unsoiled and unruffled : in all his amuse- 
ments he had to proceed with a quiet stealthiness, 
which at once took away their enjoyment and efficacy ; 
while, to fill up the measure of this indiscretion, 
he was kept up to a late hour of the night, and only 
retired with his aunt to rest. The want of play- 



6 WANT OF PLAYMATES. 

mates with whom to associate, and by whose merry- 
making he might beguile the monotony of those hours 
which dragged their slow length along, was no less 
irksome to his feelings, and served, probably, to lay the 
foundation of that reserve which was a strong charac- 
teristic of the man. 

The occasional visits which his aunt received from 
her friends, though they were persons in whom he could 
take little interest, and in whose conversation he was 
too young to join, still formed an agreeable episode in 
his life. Had it not been for a present of story-books, 
such as children delight in, the days would have been 
irremediably dull. The amusement, however, which 
these juvenile tales afforded him, and the eagerness 
with which he pored over them, filled up the gaps of 
time, satisfied his solitary spirit, and gave him a taste 
for reading. 

Being intimately acquainted with the lessee of the 
Bath Theatre, and having the privilege of entree, Miss 
Tyler omitted no opportunity of being present at the 
representations, and not unfrequently at the rehearsals 
of new and familiar plays. The extreme youth of 
Southey did not prevent his accompanying her, and the 
constant exhibition of the same pieces tended greatly to 
familiarise him with the scenes, plots, and dramatis 
persona of the most popular dramas of Shakspeare, 
Jonsou, and Beaumont and Fletcher ; whilst it awakened 
within him a thirst after distinction, and an early energy 



THEATRE — ANECDOTE. 



of fancy and power of composition. There was, appa- 
rently, some justification for the conduct of his aunt in 
thus exposing him to such a fascinating allurement, in 
the reply which she always made, — that he could compre- 
hend nothing of the morals of the play, and that it was 
no more to him than an amusing and exciting spectacle. 
Yet he did not escape entirely unscathed. The phrase- 
ology of the theatre became ready upon his tongue, and 
on one especial occasion he incurred the indignant cen- 
sure of his aunt by observing, before some friends, as 
they w r ere returning from chapel, that there had been a 
" full house" that morning. 



SCHOOLS AND EDUCATION. 



CHAPTER II. 

The Character of his Schools — Kemarks on Education — His 
Grandmother's House — Visit to Weymouth — Fondness for 
Eeading — Attempts a Composition — Habits and Disposition — 
Shadrach Weeks — Preparing for Westminster — His Entrance 
— Public Schools — Anticipations — Life at Westminster — 
Friends — Literary Efforts — The Flagellator — Dr. Vincent — 
Expulsion — Life at Bristol. 

Mtat. 6-18. 

The school to which Southey was next removed was 
conducted by a Baptist minister, by whom he was 
treated with unusual severity. He now experienced, 
for the first time, the tyranny of the world, and in the 
elder boys of the establishment learned to regard human 
nature with suspicion and dread. But he remained 
here only a twelvemonth, and was placed under the 
care of Mr. Flower, of Corston, near Bath. The 
progress he made with, him was not commensurate with 
the abilities lie possessed. The real object of schools, 
in those Boeotian days, seems to have been miserably 
neglected. Institutions of learning, in too many in- 



SOUTHEY AT COKSTON. 9 

stances, they were not. Even where the most zealous 
advocates of education were to be found, the method 
which was pursued was usually the least facile and 
direct. A knowledge of the classics was regarded as 
the most essential, and the plan by which it was acquired 
was rather a scheme for loading the memory and puzzling 
the mind than a system for simplifying the difficulties 
of the dead languages, and rendering their terms com- 
prehensible to the understandings of youth. The true 
purpose and aim of education — the leading the mind 
to observe and discriminate — to depend upon its own 
powers, feeble at first, but gathering strength with 
every effort — to draw inferences and educe truth — was 
seldom contemplated: and the discipline then in 
practice tended rather to defeat the work of learning 
than to promote it. If there were some conscien- 
tious men who strove to impart to their pupils what 
they considered real knowledge, there were others who 
imagined they had done enough for duty when, they 
had placed a book before their scholars, and left them 
to discover its signs and unravel its mysteries them- 
selves. Of this class was Mr. Flower. His chief de- 
light was in the study of mathematics and astronomy, 
to which he devoted his whole time, whilst the charge of 
the school was committed to his son, a youth of sixteen. 
It is, therefore, no surprise that the progress of Southey 
was slow ; and what was, perhaps, still worse, the know- 
ledge he acquired imperfect. A well-grounded acquaint- 



10 MB. flowee's establishment. 

ance with the principles of language was that which was 
most essential to him ; and to this no attention was paid. 
The injurious effects of this neglect he afterwards fully 
experienced when a student at Westminster. 

Nor were the physical habits of the pupils more re- 
spected than their mental training. Their morning ab- 
lutions were performed in a brook not more than ankle 
deep, that ran through the court-yard in which they 
played. Their breakfast consisted of porridge in winter, 
of bread and milk in summer. One day in the week 
bread and cheese served them for dinner, and when bed- 
time arrived they had the same for supper. Southey's 
experience of this management was of no long con- 
tinuance, the school having been broken up, by the con- 
duct of the father and son, shortly after he was placed 
there. 

Mr. Williams, a person who resided on St. Michael's 
Hill, Bristol, was the next person who had the care of 
Southey's education. The lad made greater proficiency 
here than at his previous schools ; but the limited ac- 
quirements of his master and the unambitious character 
of the seminary checked his ulterior studies, and he only 
acquired as much as he could teach himself with a little 
guidance. He learned the mechanical art of cali- 
graphy in this establishment, for which both himself 
and the printers were afterwards sensibly grateful. 

During his residence at Corston young Southey lost 
an infant sister and his grandmother, Mrs. Hill. Upon 



THE OLD HOUSE AT BEDMINSTER. 11 

the decease of the latter, Miss Tyler thought it expedient 
to break up her establishment at Bath and occupy the 
house rendered vacant by the death of her mother. This 
house had frequently been the home of Southey whilst 
he was at school in Bristol, and here he had passed 
many of the most agreeable hours of his childhood. With 
his aunt he was under too much restraint ; his father's 
residence was in one of the noisiest parts of the city : but 
here he enjoyed a liberty that sweetened every enjoy- 
ment, and leasut to take delight in rural sights and 
sounds, — a taste which grew up with him and remained 
unabated through life. He had not that alertness or 
propensity to youthful sports that usually distinguishes 
boyhood ; but he gave indications of a reflective and ex- 
perimental mind. He pursued with ardour the study of 
botany and entomology, and watched with peculiar inqui- 
sitiveness the changes and habits of flowers and insects. 

The house itself was one calculated to feed a pensive 
mind. It was old. It stood by itself, enclosed in a 
garden or orchard, down a green lane, removed yet not 
remote from the Great Western high-road. The antique 
porch was lined with white jessamine; and on its semi- 
circular steps he spent many hours with his sister, 
threading the fallen blossoms upon grass stalks. Its 
quaint appearance and quaint furniture were remem- 
bered long, and the reference to them in " Dr. Daniel 
Dove's Patrimonial Cottage," exhibits the strong link 
that still bound him to the house. 



12 VISIT TO WEYMOUTH. 

During the first two years after his removal from 
Corston, Southey lived with his father in Wine Street, 
at a convenient distance from Mr. Williams's academy. 
His holidays, however, were usually passed at Miss 
Tyler's, who took him upon occasional excursions. Their 
first trip was to Weymouth, and its object a visit to 
Madame Dolignon. For the first time the future poet now 
saw the sea, and the impression it made upon him was 
commensurate with its magnitude. His mind was as 
yet too young to have framed any previous idea of the 
ocean ; and when it burst upon him in the fulness of its 
glory, there were no false conceptions to remove, no 
exaggerated anticipations to disappoint. The pleasure 
of this visit was further enhanced by short journeys into 
the country. 

Southey was now twelve years of age, of a quick and 
apprehensive mind, and an enthusiastic temperament. 
Although he did not possess the advantage of a regular 
course of study, he was a close reader, and was laying in 
an extensive stock of desultory knowledge. The fre- 
quency of his visits to the theatre had given him a taste 
for Shakspeare, and he was stimulated to read and re- 
read the productions of that great poet. " Titus Andro- 
nicus r> was his favourite play, probably on account of the 
tales of deep horror it contains, more suited to his 
comprehension than appeals to the feelings. " Cym- 
beline " and " As You Like It" pleased him best on the 
stage, being the most romantic. He was also familiar 



READING AND STUDY. 13 

with the writings of Beaumont and Fletcher. The 
effect of this constant excitement and study soon mani- 
fested itself in his desire to become a play -writer. 
When he was only eight years of age he had fixed upon 
his subject, contrived the plot, and composed an act and 
a half. His ardour was not confined to himself. He 
endeavoured to inspire his school-fellows with the same 
enthusiasm, and to prevail upon them to join in the 
composition of a tragedy. In vain : they all, from the 
oldest to the youngest, protested their incompetency. 
He gave them the dramatis persona, but their incapacity 
continued. He remonstrated, but was at length com- 
pelled to desist, with surprise and vexation, from the 
arduous task of communicating his own energy and 
genius to others. 

His time, however, was not spent solely in play- 
reading and composition. " Gerusalemme Liberata," 
for which he had imbibed a passionate fondness from 
the " Stories of Orlando and Sopkronia," was another 
favourite ; and when this was devoured, " Orlando Fu- 
rioso" and Spenser's "Faery Queen" caught his affec- 
tions. The miscellaneous volumes upon his fathers 
shelves were too few and too common-place to afford 
food for his expanding mind. Yet there were amongst 
them those from which he learned something of political 
wit, scandal, and warfare. But from the circulating 
library he obtained books of greater value. Mickle's 
"Lusiad," Pope's "Homer," Sidney's "Arcadia," and 



14 POETRY AND COMPOSITION. 

Rowley's " Poems," are amongst those which he enume- 
rates as having greatly delighted him. He also ac- 
quired an extensive acquaintance with the novels of the 
day, the Arabian and mock -Arabian tales, the whole 
works of Josephus, a general idea of Greek and Eoman 
history, and some conception of ancient mythology. 

The faculty of composition was scarcely ever dor- 
mant. After failing to engraft a story upon the " Or- 
lando Furioso," of which " Arcadia" was to have been 
the scene and title, and the expulsion of the Moors 
out of France under Marsilius the subject, he made 
some progress in an epic poem upon " Egbert, king of 
Saxon Heptarchy."* In imitation of Ovid, he had writ- 
ten heroic epistles in rhyme ; besides several other 
productions, satirical and dramatic, which it would be 
superfluous to enumerate, but which exhibit an extra- 
ordinary activity of thought and power of invention, 
as well as an unusual facility of expression. 

The excessive attachment to reading which Southey 
exhibited, and the unrestricted liberty with which he was 
permitted to indulge it — he was quiet whilst he read — 
made him contract a spirit of reserve and isolation from 
even his equals in age, which sensibly affected his man- 
ner. Amongst those with whom he had for so long a 
time associated at school, there were none whom he 

* This epic having been seen by a lady, who could not 
restrain her curiosity, the indignant author composed a system 
of ciphers for himself. 



SHADKACH WEEKS AND HEALTH. 1 5 

selected as friends and companions ; nor does he appear 
to have engaged in boyish sports and exercises with 
the alacrity and vigour consistent with his years. For 
this he was, doubtless, indebted to the injudicious treat- 
ment of his aunt ; and it might have been carried to an 
extent permanently injurious, had not his attachment 
for Shadrach Weeks, who acted in the capacity of ser- 
vant-boy, in some measure interrupted his close appli- 
cation. Having this youth as a companion, the bad 
effects of his home education were partially counter- 
acted. They worked together in the garden, played in 
the fields, made kites and flew them, tried their hands 
at carpentering, strolled into the country, gathered the 
primrose, the cowslip, the violet, and a thousand other 
wild flowers that garland the brow and perfume the 
breath of Spring, — penetrated as far as Clifton and the 
St. Vincent's Rocks, climbed their steep and romantic 
pathways, inhaled the fresh air of the Downs, and ac- 
quired some of that masculine vigour and strength 
natural to boyhood. 

Southey had exhibited unquestionable proofs of an 
intelligent and active mind. His friends were, therefore, 
anxious to give full scope to his abilities, and Westminster 
School was fixed upon as being the fittest arena for dis- 
playing and maturing his awakening talents. Apprehend- 
ing, however, that he was not sufficiently advanced for his 
admission, or wishing to give him an additional advan- 
tage previous to his entrance, it was arranged that he 



1 6 PREPARATIONS FOR WESTMINSTER. 

should receive lessons from a gentleman who devoted a 
few hours each day to the education of private pupils 
only. By him Southey was introduced to the m Greek 
language, and made to try his hand at nonsense verses. 
He read the " E electa ex Ovidio et Tibullo," Horace's 
" Odes," and wrote English themes. On being first 
required to perform this last task, his powers utterly 
failed him. He had been accustomed to pour out his 
thoughts in almost unpremeditated verse ; but when 
asked for an essay in prose, his mind appeared a chaos, 
and the fountain of his ideas dried up. Every effort 
was in vain ; and his aunt was at last obliged to write 
the lesson for him. His future attempts, by the kind 
guidance and instruction of his tutor, were more propi- 
tious. It was not, however, till some time after that he 
overcame his disinclination to prose so far as to make its 
composition a labour of love. His great ambition was 
to be a poet. 

Using his experience at Westminster as a guide, 
Southey divided youth into three classes, — those whose 
physiognomy indicated the possession of moral and in- 
tellectual qualities, of whom the number was small; 
those decidedly mischievous and vicious, who, though 
not numerous, preponderated over the first ; and those 
who possessed no decision of character, but might be 
easily moulded by either of the two former classes. Of 
this last the multitude consisted. As vice is ever more 
active than virtue, and the propensities of our nature 



PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 17 

incline to evil, he believed that the influence of the 
second class prevailed to a greater extent where num- 
bers were congregated, and that the tyranny they exer- 
cised was fearfully detrimental to the morality of the 
third. 

With a proper supervision of the conduct of the 
pupils, however, there can be little doubt but that edu- 
cation at a public school is, to a certain extent, advan- 
tageous. The inexcusable cruelties and tyranny of 
fagging, which make not up a part of the system, being 
abolished, there remains an ample field for the exercise 
and expansion of the mind. Industry is stimulated by 
a generous competition ; the ambition it excites can 
only be baneful when carried to an undue and ill-regu- 
lated extent, and even these instances must be confined 
to few. Generally a youth is there taught, in a position 
where all are temporarily his equals, not to think of 
himself more highly than he Wght, whatever may be 
his rank. He learns early, but with a milder violence, 
the struggles and disappointments that await him in the 
more capacious field of life, and practises the arduous 
lesson, unconsciously perhaps, but not the less effec- 
tually, of self-government. Nor must we forget that 
these minor colleges, for the most part, are conducted 
by men of eminent abilities and sound learning. 

The usual formalities having been gone through, 
Southey became a scholar of the Westminster School 
about the beginning of March 1788. It is a subject of 

c 



18 PEOSPECTS AND ANTICIPATIONS. 

regret that so little is known of his life during his resi- 
dence there. The information which he has left us, even 
in those letters which were designed to give an ample 
portraiture of his life, and to which we are indebted for 
the interesting account of his early years, refers at this 
time not so much to himself as to others, in whom the 
public can feel little sympathy. His hopes, his ambi- 
tion, his feelings, his pursuits, his plans, and the general 
progress of his studies, are untouched. He thought it a 
more pleasing labour, though not unalloyed with trans- 
itory emotions of pain, to retrace the footsteps of time, 
to recall the scenes where so many of his comrades had 
acted a part, and himself amongst the many, and to re- 
member, with a vigour forty years had not impaired, the 
characters and careers of those with whose life he was 
then so intimately mixed up. 

On his anticipations previous to entering the school 
he has left some remarks. Beading in the papers of 
the day an account of the examinations and recitations, 
his imagination was fired with the idea that he was to 
be introduced to characters whose talents and virtues, 
he presumed, had brought them thus prominently for- 
ward. He thought himself already united, by the fel- 
lowship of genius, in bonds of a saored friendship with 
living poets. Such day-dreams were, however, to vanish. 
Upon his entrance he was placed in the fourth class, a 
position inferior to that which he would have occupied 
had a greater attention been paid to his classics earlier ; 



FAGGING AND COWPER. 19 

and he found that the formalities of the school had fixed 
a wide gulf between the Upper and Lower Forms. With 
those only who belonged to his class or form, or those 
who boarded in the same house with himself, did he be- 
come intimate ; and even this circle was circumscribed 
by the natural tendency we have to select our com- 
panions from amongst those whose feelings and tastes 
coincide with our own. 

It was Southey's good fortune, however, on entering, 
to be placed under the protection of a boy of a mild and 
inoffensive disposition. The cruelty and brutality with 
which the fagging system is sometimes exercised, have 
always been regarded as the greatest abuses of these 
establishments. Cowper had before experienced the 
rigour of such tyranny, and witnessed against the inhu- 
manity of its rule. His gentle nature could not bear 
up against the intolerant practice, and with a bitterness 
of feeling time and retrospection could not soften — per- 
haps which his large sympathies tended to revive * — he 
inveighed against, and would have uprooted, the whole 
system. 

The materials upon which we can form an opinion 
of Southey's Westminster career are, as we have already 
stated, scanty. Following the ordinary course pre- 
scribed, he does not appear to have exhibited any re- 
markable proficiency in his academical studies. It is 
probable, that a mind constituted as his was, and which 
had become habituated to desultory reading, cared little 



20 LIBEAKY IN DEAN'S YAKD. 

to dive into the critical analysis of languages ; and it is 
certain he felt severely the want of a sound education at 
the beginning. Much of his leisure time — or, as he 
himself calls it, his truant-hours, possibly because he 
ought to have been engaged in the prescribed labours 
of the school — was employed in the library in Dean's 
Yard, where he pored over strange and antiquated books. 
It was here, he tells us,* that, reading over Picart's 
" Religious Ceremonies," he formed the idea of illus- 
trating the mythology of different nations in a series 
of grand epics. 

Southey seems to have escaped the corruption which 
he apprehended was so rank at public schools, and tends 
to weaken the moral sensibility of youth. His affec- 
tions, which were ever warm and ardent, became con- 
firmed by the growth of time; and he now formed friend- 
ships which lasted through life, and softened many of 
its bitterest hours. Of those who had been his com- 
panions at Westminster, few, however, lived to enjoy 
life long. Some entered the army or the navy, to swell 
the ranks which were daily thinned by the disastrous 
wars of the ensuing thirty years, or the ravages of fever, 
which insidiously attacked them in tropical climates. 
Others engaged in civil offices in their own country or 
the colonies, and found not a securer refuge from the 
inevitable shaft ; whilst two or three, as it has been 

* See " Vindicise Eccl. Angl." p. 7. 



ETON AND WESTMINSTER. 21 

before observed, survived to a good old age, succouring 
and cheering each other. 

We come now to the closing scene of Southey 's life 
at Westminster. The scholars of Eton had issued a 
publication entitled the " Microcosm." The papers 
which were contributed to it evinced considerable talent ; 
and the circulation of the periodical was not, we believe, 
confined to the precincts of the college. This excited a 
strong feeling of emulation on the part of the West- 
minster scholars, and a rival was originated, entitled 
" The Trifler." This magazine had been established 
when Southey entered the school, and he, amongst 
many others, aspired to the honours of authorship. An 
elegy upon the death of his sister found its way into the 
editor's box, signed by the initial "B ;" but the only 
notice taken of it was in the column to correspondents, 
in which it was announced that contributors must suffer 
their productions to receive the pruning -knife of the 
editor to any extent he might deem requisite. 'How- 
ever, after a run of forty numbers, "The Trifler" be- 
came extinct. 

When Southey, however, mounted to the Upper 
Form, he, in conjunction with Wynn, afterwards Under- 
Secretary -of -War in the Grenville administration; 
Grosvenor Bedford, one of his most intimate friends 
and correspondents through life ; and Strachey, after- 
wards Chief Secretary at Madras, endeavoured to rouse 
the literary spirit of the Westminster scholars, and 



22 " THE FLAGELLANT." 

started a new publication, to which he gave the title of 
" The Flagellant." The name sufficiently indicates the 
critical temper of the magazine. In the fifth number 
of this periodical an article appeared upon the subject of 
corporal punishment : the argument of the paper went 
to show (it was written ironically) that flagellation 
formed a portion of the religious ceremonies of the 
heathen ; that such ceremonies had been declared in- 
stitutions of the devil in the writings of the ancient 
Fathers; and that, logically, no part nor portion of 
such ceremonies (of which flagellation was one) ought 
to be permitted in a Christian country. The article was 
expressed in general terms, but its writer had perhaps 
an eye upon the inhuman floggings in the army. The 
remarks, however, were interpreted as high treason 
against the authorities of the school, and a prosecution 
against the publisher commenced. 

The Head Master at this time was Dr. Vincent, and 
the mantle of the celebrated Dr. Busby seems to have 
fallen upon his successor. He had great notions of the 
majesty of his office, and spared not the rod. No dis- 
tinction was made between faults of a venial and those 
of a grave nature : the whole was a matter of habit. 
The temper of the flagellator, his partialities and anti- 
pathies, had more to do with its application than justice 
herself. Seeing the offence which the article gave, and 
desiring to shield the unfortunate publisher, Southey 
came forward, stated that he was the author of the 



DE. VINCENT AND AUTHOKITY. 23 

remarks, and apologized for them. The irate Doctor, 
however, was immutable, and the private expulsion of 
Southey alone could satisfy his outraged dignity. That 
this was a hasty and unnecessary step, no one will doubt. 
Southey withdrew from the school, with a consciousness 
that the punishment exceeded the offence, but not with- 
out a corresponding feeling of indignation and regret. 

He now retired to the house of his aunt, Miss Tyler, 
who had removed from Bedminster to College Green, 
Bristol. He was in his eighteenth year, with a mind 
well stored, an independent judgment, a keen sensi- 
bility, and ardent aspirations, but without any particular 
object upon which to direct his energies. The sudden ex- 
tinction, by the "Flagellant" affair, of whatever schemes 
he might have planned, had not yet been followed by any 
new idea, so that the succeeding interval was a period of 
wearying depression, in which he found how much more 
toilsome a state of vacant and aimless existence is than 
the most busy moments of a well-purposed life. 

His time, it is true, was engaged in reading, and the 
visitations of the Muses served for a while to draw away 
his thoughts from sublunary subjects ; but he felt that 
eveiy moment not spent in forwarding one object of life 
was a moment wasted. The opinions which he had formed 
from ancient authors (Epictetus was his favourite) upon 
the nature and character of philosophy, operated bene- 
ficially upon his mind, and regulated his conduct. " To 
search for applause from within, to attend only to the 



24 PEACTICAL PHILOSOPHY. 

inward monitor, to be superior to fortune," appeared to 
him to be its proper uses, and to apply them to his own 
circumstances he regarded as the greatest and truest 
wisdom. About the same period he writes : " I have a 
strong predilection to live, not from Shakspeare's pain- 
fully beautiful passage, 

' To die, and go we know not whither,' &c, 

but from the hope that my life may be serviceable to my 
family and happy to myself." 



A RICH RELATION. 



25 



CHAPTER III. 



His Father's Affairs — His Uncle Southey — His Uncle Hill — 
Death of his Father — Matriculates at Oxford — His Feelings 
and Opinions — Life at Oxford — Edmund Seward — Coleridge 
— Trip into Herefordshire — Visit to Brixton — Joan of Arc — 
Views in Life — Pantisocracy ; its Plans, Projects, and Im- 
practicability. 

Anno 1792-1794. 

Southey was recalled from his dreamy existence by a 
circumstance that must have been peculiarly distressing 
to his independent spirit. His father, owing to ill 
success in trade, had become involved in difficulties, 
and it was requisite to raise a sum of money to enable 
him to continue in the business. It was therefore de- 
termined, as a last resource, to lay the matter before a 
childless uncle, the inheritor of the Cannon estates, who 
was worth a hundred thousand pounds, and solicit his 
temporary assistance. Upon this, at all times unplea- 
sant mission, Southey was despatched. On arriving at 
Taunton, however, he found that no sympathy with his 
fathers distress existed in that quarter. His uncle was 



26 NEW PBOSPECTS IN LIFE. 

of a perverse disposition, and loved the accumulation of 
gold more than he regarded the ties and claims of kin- 
dred. A refusal ensued, and Southey returned to Bris- 
tol, still more disappointed and vexed with the world. 
During his absence, however, an aunt had advanced the 
sum required, and prevented the immediate ill conse- 
quences of his uncle's refusal. 

This little digression, however, was of great value 
to Southey, as the misfortune of his father had served 
to turn the current of his thoughts from himself to 
others, and forced upon his attention the necessity of 
vigorous exertion. Whilst he was reflecting upon the 
most beneficial course to pursue, and was weighing in 
his mind the advantages and disadvantages, the facilities 
and difficulties of each course, an offer too tempting and 
flattering to be resisted was proposed for his acceptance. 
His education at Westminster had been defrayed by his 
uncle, the Rev. Herbert Hill, at that time Chaplain to 
the English Factory at Lisbon, who had upon several 
occasions shown a great interest in him. Viewing his 
expulsion by Dr. Vincent in the light of an arbitrary 
exercise of authority rather than a just and temperate 
degree of punishment, Mr. Hill could not but express 
his regret and sympathy at the turn events had taken, 
and willing to express his full confidence in his nephew, 
and to encourage his extraordinary talents, proposed to 
him to pursue his studies at Oxford, and generously 
offered to defray the expenses. 



CYRIL JACKSON AND SOUTHEY. 27 

The proposal was cordially accepted, and Southey 
proceeded immediately to the University for the pur- 
pose of matriculating, but was speedily recalled by the 
melancholy tidings of the death of his father, whose 
health had given way under the shock of his late mis- 
fortunes. When the ceremony of interment was over, 
and a decent period had elapsed for mourning and con- 
solation, Southey returned to Oxford, and would have 
entered at Christ Church, but found the gates of admis- 
sion closed against him. The affair of " The Flagellant " 
had made him notorious ; an intimate connexion existed 
between the Westminster School and this college ; and 
Cyril Jackson, the dean, regarding the matter as a mark 
of disgrace upon the character of Southey, refused him 
admission. However, he entered at Balliol instead, 
whither he went to reside early in 1793. 

The constitution of his mind at this time was pecu- 
liar — peculiar, because it was marked with the features of 
uncompromising independence. It is for the thousands 
and tens of thousands, who learn as they are taught 
and think as they are instructed, to pursue the beaten 
track and imagine they are right when they follow the 
multitude. Such a course could not satisfy Southey. 
He was particularly characterized by an inquiring and 
original spirit, and both in his political and religious 
creeds differed widely from the orthodoxy of the times. 
The philosophy of the ancients, and the divine pre- 
cepts of the Gospel, seem to have formed his moral 



28 UTOPIA AND ITS FBIENDS. 

code ; and further, it is probable, be did not speculate. 
Although deeply read in Gibbon and Voltaire, his tem- 
porary Socinianism, we presume, was more the result 
of his subsequent intimacy with Coleridge, than the 
consequence of his own deductions. 

The political events which had taken place in Ame- 
rica, as well as those which were going on on the Conti- 
nent, had given rise to a school of politicians somewhat 
Utopian in character. The corruption and violence of 
existing governments disposed them to reject govern- 
ment altogether. They believed that the power of one 
man over another could never be exerted without crime ; 
and that the business of a country could be transacted 
by the mutual consent of the citizens, without admitting 
the old idea of authority. Southey, with the generous 
enthusiasm of youth, naturally leaned towards these cap- 
tivating doctrines ; and he was prepared to receive with 
distaste, if not with disrespect, every ancient aspect of 
society. 

If such were the feelings of Southey upon govern- 
ment, we shall not expect to find his estimate of man- 
kind, or at least that portion of it which is peculiarly 
obnoxious to observation, much more favourable. " I 
expect to meet," he writes, previous to taking up his 
residence at Balliol College, " with pedantry, prejudice, 
and aristocracy ;" from which he prays to be delivered. 
" Behold me, my friend, enlisted under the banners of 
Science and Stupidity — whichever you please — and, like 



INDEPENDENCE AND INNOVATION. 29 

a recruit got sober, looking to days that are past, and 
feeling something like regret." . . . " I must learn," 
he continues, in language descriptive of himself, " to 
break a rebellious spirit, which neither authority nor 
oppression could ever bow ; it would be easier to break 
my neck. I must learn to work a problem instead of 
writing an ode. I must learn to pay respect to men 
only remarkable for great wigs and little wisdom/' 

His first struggle, however, was not with the au- 
thorities of his college, but a person of some importance 
in his vocation, and who doubtless estimated the dignity 
of his profession no less highly than the notable Joseph 
Caxton of Fairport. This was the barber of the Uni- 
versity. It was the custom of that period for all the 
students, without distinction, to have their hair dressed 
and powdered. Southey, however, peremptorily refused 
to have this violence offered to the natural graces of his 
head — he had long, flowing, curly hair. The astonish- 
ment of the academic functionary was of a most distress- 
ing nature. This was an innovation, no less important 
to him in his individual capacity than the revolution of 
empires to kings. He pleaded immemorial usage, re- 
finement of taste, the impracticability of studying un- 
powdered. Southey was inexorable ; and it may be 
added, that several who despised the practice, but had 
not the moral courage to commence this reform, followed 
the example thus set them, and refused to persist in a 
custom obviously uncleanly and absurd. Many of the 



30 COLLEGIATE ABSUKDITJES. 

usages of the Universities were at this time not only 
notoriously arbitrary, but extremely ridiculous, and met 
with the most hearty and undisguised contempt of the 
young freshman. " Would you think it possible," he 
impatiently writes to a friend, " that the wise founders 
of an English University should forbid us to wear boots ? 
What matters it whether I study in shoes or boots? 
To me it is a matter of indifference ; but folly so ridi- 
culous puts me out of conceit with the whole." 

The course of study he now pursued is not revealed 
to us in any of his memoirs; but it is certain that he 
read extensively and thought deeply. At first he felt 
the irksomeness of subjects unpalatable to his undisci- 
plined habits ; and the sigh with which he says, " I 
must work a problem instead of writing an ode," indi- 
cates not only what a fascination the composition of 
poetry had for him, but also a spirit that shrunk from 
any study the mind was not partial to. With whatever 
reluctance he may have set himself to the preparation 
of such unimaginative labour, before long he had en- 
gaged in the business of learning, and an alarum-clock 
and tinder-box were articles added to the list of his col- 
legiate furniture. He rose at five, and over the pages 
of the philosophic Tacitus— he speaks for himself — the 
hours of study passed as rapidly away as even those 
which were devoted to his friends. 

During his whole life Southey was an enemy to in- 
temperance ; nor even at this early age, and in a place 



BACCHUS AND STUDY. 31 

where license is too frequently given and palliated under 
the plea of youthful inexperience, does it ever appear 
that he was guilty of excess in any of his habits. He 
freely censures the conduct of his fellow-students, and 
even hints at room for reformation in the conduct of 
their academic tutors. " The waters of Helicon are too 
much polluted by the wine of Bacchus." And any one 
acquainted with the discipline of the Universities in 
those days will regret to recognise the truthfulness of 
the picture, and rejoice that not only in our colleges, 
but in society in general, a great reformation of manners 
has taken place. Naturally disinclined to dissipation, 
it was to be expected that he should seek his compa- 
nions amongst those who were of the same temperate 
habits as himself. Wynn, his fellow-student at West- 
minster, was now a scholar at Oxford, and the frequency 
of their meetings cemented that friendship which, but 
for this opportune reunion, might perhaps, like so many 
early connexions, have been forgotten. Edmund 
Seward, for whom he entertained a deep affection, was 
another friend of " sterling virtue " and " iron rectitude," 
and had he lived might have prevailed upon Sou they to 
adopt moderate and sensible views. 

He formed, however, another friendship during his 
stay at Oxford, which perhaps operated more powerfully 
than any other upon him, and gave a colour to his future 
life. Samuel Taylor Coleridge was at this time upon a 
visit to a friend in the University, and during his sojourn 



32 COLERIDGE AT OXFORD. 

was introduced to Southey by a fellow-collegian. Having 
been educated at Christ Hospital, London, this eccentric 
genius enlisted, under some unaccountable hallucination, 
into an equestrian corps as a private, from which he 
was rescued by his friends, and sent to Jesus College, 
Cambridge. Here he gave evidence of a strong and 
original mind, and was already regarded as a man of 
extraordinary abilities. The growth of his intimacy 
with Southey was rapid. In poetry and philosophy, in 
religion and politics, a strong coincidence of feeling and 
taste was almost intuitively detected ; and this coinci- 
dence was enforced by the powerful rhetoric of the 
Cambridge student, and eagerly acknowledged by his no 
less fervent though less eloquent companion. This 
sympathy created a lively admiration on both sides, 
which soon ripened into a firm and lasting friendship. 

The time which Southey could abstract from his 
studies was devoted to short excursions around Oxford. 
In these rambles — he was passionately fond of rural 
scenes — he experienced the greatest pleasure. The 
spots around this ancient University are exquisitely 
beautiful in themselves, — what spot chosen by the 
monks and abbots of old for the residence of their order 
is not? — full of venerable associations, and gratefully 
refreshing to the spirit of the thought- worn student. 
The town itself was not without its peculiar attractions 
for one who longed to live amongst the departed. The 
Venerable Bede, whose chair still remains to link a 



EDMUND SEWAED PEDESTRIANISM. 33 

thousand years with the present ; the immortal Alfred, 
the father of learning in a benighted age ; the renowned 
Bacon, the earliest of modern philosophers; together 
with the illustrious champions of Protestantism, the 
martyrs Ridley and Latimer, — are names too closely con- 
nected with the University not to awaken feelings of 
reverence, even in a heart less susceptible than Southey's 
of venerating what time and genius had rendered 
sacred. 

" My philosophy," he writes facetiously to his 
friend Grosvenor Bedford, " which has been of a kind 
so peculiar to myself — neither of the school of Plato, 
Aristotle, Westminster, or the Miller — is at length 
settled : I am become a peripatetic philosopher." This 
was to announce a pedestrian tour which he had made 
with his friend Edmund Seward into Herefordshire. 
With diary, writing-books, pen and ink, a silk hand- 
kerchief, and Milton's " Defence," he sallied forth. 
Passing through Woodstock, he and his companion 
came to the beautiful ruins of Evesham Abbey, where 
Edward defeated Simon de Montford. Having ad- 
mired its broken tower, its high-pointed windows, and 
sighed over the mantling ivy that feedeth upon decay, 
and the tall grass that waved to and fro in the once 
crowded courts of the building; " having conjured up 
in imagination the savage sons of superstition, and 
heard in fancy the deep tones of the solemn mass or 
chaunted prayer," they proceeded through Worcester 



34 GK0SVEN0K BEDFOKD. 

and Kidderminster, over the Malvern hills, to Ledbury. 
Near Bewdley, a place they passed through on their 
return, they saw an old mansion, formerly the seat of 
Lord Herbert, now mouldering away in so romantic a 
situation, that Southey could not resist flying back to 
the days of yore, and picturing to his eye the tapestried 
room, the listed fight, the vassal hall, the hospitable 
fire, the old baron and his young daughter, and forming 
of them the most exquisite day-dreams. The remi- 
niscences of such an expedition were delightful in the 
extreme, and the labour (if any) of the walk was lost in 
the generous character of the exercise, or in the pleas- 
ing subjects of interest and reflection it afforded. " Who, 
in the name of common-sense," he continues in the 
same letter, " would travel stewed up in a leathern box, 
when they have legs, and those none of the shortest, fit 
for use ? What scene can be more calculated to expand 
the soul than the sight of Nature in her loveliest 
works?" 

In the month of August of this year (1793) Southey 
paid a visit to his friend Grosvenor Bedford, who resided 
at Brixton. Here he applied himself — so congenial to 
the spirit of his muse was the tranquillity which this 
retirement afforded him — to his first accomplished epic, 
" Joan of Arc," a poem which had been suggested to 
him by the same friend, probably when at Westmin- 
ster. He had already made some progress in it, and a 
leisure of six weeks spent enthusiastically upon his 



" JOAN OF ARC." 35 

subject, brought the work to a completion. It appears, 
however, from a letter written some time after, that 
Southey had no other view in thus devoting himself to 
his epic than the gratification he derived from the em- 
ployment of his time in the composition of poetry. 

To pour forth his ideas, and give, as it were, " a 
local habitation and a name" to the thoughts that 
burned within him, had always been the source of his 
purest pleasures. The time and labour which he had 
hitherto expended upon versification, and the vast 
number of lines he had thrown off, would appear in- 
credible, did we not know the astonishing powers of 
application which he exhibited in after-life, and which 
thus early seems to have become a habit with him, con- 
verting the dull routine of duty into a labour of love. 
On looking over his papers at this time for the purpose 
of arranging or destroying them, he estimated the 
number of lines he had written at thirty-five thousand, 
of which ten thousand he transcribed, as worthy of pre- 
servation; the same number had been burnt or lost, 
and the remaining fifteen thousand he condemned, as 
altogether worthless. 

After remaining three months at Brixton, Southey 
returned to college, where he plunged deeply into the 
metaphysics of the ancient philosophers, especially " the 
Republic" of Plato, with whose sentiments he was 
strongly imbued ; but, before the year had expired, 
returned to his aunt, Miss Tyler, at Bristol. 



36 THE CHURCH, PHYSIC, AND THE LAW. 

Enjoying as he was the society of friends whom he 
prized for the congeniality of their tastes and pursuits, 
and indulging himself occasionally in the academic 
sports of the seasons, he felt that he was labouring 
without a purpose, — that he was laying in a stock of 
learning for which he had defined to himself no specific 
use. The future of his existence was clouded, and 
though the present threw the sunshine of its real ad- 
vantages over him, he could not hut look with hesitation 
upon his after career. The tacit wish of his friends had 
designed him for the Church ; he knew, too, that his 
uncle, to whose kindness he was so deeply indebted, en- 
tertained the same desire, though he had never expressed 
so much. His political and religious opinions were, 
however, an obstacle that could not be overcome, and 
he perceived that he must either sacrifice principle and 
honesty, by repudiating his creed, or appear in the eyes 
of some ungrateful for not complying with the under- 
stood object of so generous a relative. But there was 
no alternative. His duty was clearly marked out before 
him, and he unhesitatingly gave up all idea of taking 
holy orders. Physic for awhile seemed to hold out a 
better hope. To alleviate the misery of our fellow; 
creatures, and to relieve their bodily sufferings, has in 
all ages been regarded as one of the most honourable 
aspirations and privileges of the medical profession, and 
been pointed out to the young student, to stimulate him 
to undertake and to overcome the difficulties of such a 



LIBERTY, EQUALITY, AND FRATERNITY. 37 

study. Southey entered upon the first course; but 
here again he was foiled at the very threshold of the 
attempt. His disgust of anatomy became a rooted 
antipathy, which he could not subdue. An equal 
aversion repelled him from the law; his opinions de- 
barred him from any government situation ; and as his 
education and habits had unfitted him for engaging in 
the business of trade, he was left in a dilemma most 
wearying and perplexing. 

Whilst agitated by this uncertainty, a scheme was 
proposed to him by Coleridge well suited to his unsettled 
spirit, and full of that extravagance and romance which 
consorted with his visionary and distempered ideas. The 
plan was one for transporting a colony to the farther 
shores of the Atlantic Ocean, where they might live in 
uninterrupted harmony, dependent only upon their 
unthwarted exertions, and enjoying the produce of their 
labour in common. Pantisocracy gave at once a title 
and explanation to this wild design. Upon the banks of 
the Susquehanna, celebrated by the story of the once fair 
Wyoming, or in one of the luxuriant wildernesses of the 
Western republic, they were to fix their abode. The 
unquiet spirit of Cowley had once sighed for such a 
solitude.* Whilst the men were engaged in the labours 
of husbandry or hunted in the forests, the women were 
to occupy themselves in the duties peculiar to their sex. 

* See Dr. Johnson's " Life of Cowley ;" and the " Rambler," 
No. VI. 



38 THE PAKTISOCKATS. 

The prospect that no tax-gatherer, no rate-levyer, no 
tithe-collector, no aristocrat, would break in upon the 
beautiful tranquillity of this Elysium, gave an increased 
charm to the whole plan. Intellectual amusement was 
to be reserved for the quiet and stillness of the evening, 
when reading, composition, or conversation upon literary 
subjects, was to have an allotted portion, and be contri- 
buted to by each according to his tastes or dispositions. 

For several months Southey and Coleridge applied 
themselves earnestly to the execution of their scheme. 
They were diligent in making converts, and after exhi- 
biting extraordinary zeal, persuaded Robert Lovell (the 
poet), George Bennett, Robert Allen (then of Corpus 
Christi), Edmund Seward, Favell,* and La Grice, to join 
in this enterprise. Others subsequently consented, and 

* The following sonnet, written by Favell, embodies the 
hopes and sentiments of the Pantisocrats : — 

" No more my visionary soul shall dwell 
On joys that were ; no more endure to weigh 
The shame and anguish of the evil day, 
Wisely forgetful ! O'er the ocean's swell, 
Sublime of Hope, I seek the cottage dell, 
Where Virtue calm with careless steps may stray, 
And, dancing to the moonlight roundelay, 
The wizard Passion wears a holy spell. 
Eyes that have ached with anguish, ye shall weep 
Tears of doubt-mingled joy, as those who start 
From precipices of distempered sleep, 
On which the fierce-eyed fiends their revel keep, 
And see the rising sun, and feel it dart 
New rays of pleasure trembling on the heart." 



ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTEKS. 39 

amongst these was Shadrach Weeks, who, probably, bad 
little choice in the affair. Southey's mother, with Mrs. 
Lovell and her sisters, the two Miss Frickers, who, 
probably, were at this time betrothed, as they afterwards 
married Southey and Coleridge, also became Pantiso- 
crats, and contributed not a little to the spirit and hope- 
fulness of the plan. 

Edmund Seward, of whom Southey frequently speaks 
in terms of the warmest eulogy for his strong virtues, 
was the first to perceive the impracticability of the 
scheme. He observed that there was too great a natural 
disparity in the individuals that were to compose this 
community for it long to exist upon the basis they had 
established. He felt that they were hunting after a 
shadow, and were staking their all upon a single throw. 
The opinions of Southey, Coleridge, and himself, differed 
in some of the most essential points ; and until there 
was a greater uniformity, — a perfect uniformity in their 
moral being was necessary, — it was evident to him that 
the equality, the fraternity, and the liberty they wished 
to create, were altogether ideal. Discussions, he was 
satisfied, would arise of such a character as must de- 
stroy eventually the harmony of their society ; nor could 
it be otherwise, whilst there were some ambitious to 
govern and others indisposed to submit. He shrewdly 
suspected, that if it were not the Quixotic frenzy of 
romance that impelled them, it was a disquieted spirit, 
a disaffection to society ill - grounded, and that they 



40 THE " VILIUS ATJRUM." 

would too soon, and to their serious disappointment, 
learn, 

" Ccelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt." 

Being convinced that the plan was not feasible, Se- 
ward withdrew from it, and endeavoured to dissuade the 
rest from wasting any further time or energy upon the 
enterprise. But the spell was upon them, and they 
could not, until the false excitement had exhausted 
itself, shake off the delusion. Every inquiry respecting 
the climate, the soil, the vegetation, the seasons, the 
periods of seed-time and harvest, the expectations of 
the crops, the probable expenses of their voyage and 
future settlement in the colony, and the proper month 
for sailing, was made, and no preparation which it was in 
their power to forward was relaxed. But an insur- 
mountable obstacle now began to present itself. It was 
discovered that there were no funds, and it was pain- 
fully evident, that even a Utopia could not be founded 
without the aid of the villus aurum. 

It was computed that 2000L would set them fairly 
afloat. The passage-money, for as many as had already 
enlisted, they estimated at 400Z. ; the rest was to pur- 
chase land, clear the ground, procure provisions, or 
whatever was requisite for the well-being of the com- 
munity. The effects of all put together would not 
raise that sum. Southey was the foremost and most 
sanguine upon the occasion. There was the " Joan of 



TITLE-DEEDS AND MONEY-CHANGERS. 41 

Arc," — a manuscript epic, — it might be offered to the 
publishers. But these gentlemen were known more as 
cormorants than pelicans. There was, consequently, little 
hope from that quarter. He had some prospect, however, 
of a future fortune, based upon some uncertain title-deeds 
or will of an uncle. It might be possible — such was the 
train of his thoughts — to raise a loan upon the rever- 
sionary interest of the property, and that the bill- 
brokers or money-changers might be tempted to ad- 
vance a sufficient sum upon those securities. The title- ■ 
deeds, upon examination, proved valueless, and the will 
of an uncle — he had already shown his capriciousness — 
was equally insubstantial. The requisite funds could 
not be raised, and it was found necessary to postpone 
the day of sailing. 

Delays and postponements are proverbially^ unfa- 
vourable to the execution of any plan ; and unequivocal 
signs of the impracticability of their scheme began to 
force themselves irresistibly upon the attention of the 
chiefs of Pantisocracy. Southey was, however, tenacious 
of his purpose, and his reluctance to throw up the 
enterprise was manifested in a desire to experimen- 
talize in some retired spot of North Wales. To this 
Coleridge objected, and both began now to perceive the 
necessity of confining their views to the realities, and 
preparing for the exigencies, of life. This, perhaps, 
thoroughly undeceived them as to the feasibility of 
their scheme, as it must have reduced them to reflect 



42 THE LAST ACT. 

calmly upon the probabilities of success in such an 
association. Southey, however, was the first to abandon 
a scheme of which Coleridge was the originator, and the 
latter, with a decent exhibition of affection for his abor- 
tive project, felt aggrieved at his friend's conduct. A 
temporary misunderstanding ensued ; but this estrange- 
ment lasted only a short time, and both were quickly 
devising more rational plans for their subsistence. 



A STEEN INQUIRY. 43 



CHAPTER IV. 



Prospects in Life — Miss Tyler — Dependence upon Literature 
— Lectures at Bristol — Publication of "Joan of Arc" — Eeturn 
of Mr. Hill to England — Southey prepares for a Voyage to 
Lisbon — His Marriage. 



Whilst the fever of Pantisocracy was upon him, the 
whole time and energies of Southey were engaged in it. 
His attendance at Oxford had been interrupted, and all 
serious thoughts absorbed by the predominant ideas of 
happiness that awaited him and his fellow- colonists in 
the Western World. Having thrown off the delusion, 
it was necessary to inquire into less visionary matters, 
and to discover what course he should adopt for his 
future support, the most pressing and weighty reasons 
urging him to the consideration. 

The Church was still open to him, and he w T as as- 
sured of the influence and valuable assistance of his 
friends on his entering it.* We have, however, seen 

* " Till Christmas last I supported myself wholly by the 
profits of my writing. . . . Thus you may see, that the only 



44 RELIGION AND POLITICS. 

that he could not conscientiously subscribe to its arti- 
cles of faith, and he did not scruple to reject the idea. 
At first he was apprehensive that his refusal might give 
offence to his uncle. Such was not the case. " I knew 
what your politics were, and therefore had reason to 
suspect what your religion might be," quietly observed 
Mr. Hill, who shared the prejudices of the day as to the 
necessary connexion of servility and faith, but who had 
nothing of the persecuting spirit about him. But such 
moderation it was not always South ey's good fortune to 
experience ; and the mildness of this rebuke came, 
as it were, to set off the conduct of his eccentric rela- 
tive, Miss Tyler. The imperiousness of her character 
had induced him to delay the announcement of the 
Pantisocratic scheme and his intended marriage with 
Edith Fricker to the eleventh hour. Consequently, 
when everything was deemed ready, and the day, or at 
least the month — it was the March of 1793 — fixed, he 
ventured to break the subject to his aunt. Knowing the 
tropical warmth of her temper, he had a right to expect 
the waters to be ruffled, but a tempest of unusual vio- 
lence ensued. Ordering him to quit her house, and 
never see her face again, she turned him out of a piti- 

means I have ever possessed of assisting my mother was by 
entering the Church. God knows I would exchange every intel- 
lectual gift which he has hlest me with, for implicit faith to 

have heen ahle to do this " — Letter to John May, Esq, 

July \bth, 1799. 



A LOST HOME. 45 

less October night into the street, to find a shelter where 
he best could. His mother lived at Bath. It was a 
cold and rainy night, with a hard wind blowing ; and the 
distance twelve miles. He performed the journey on 
foot the same night. It is melancholy to reflect that 
the aunt, whose anger was immitigable, and the nephew, 
never saw one another again. 

Being cast adrift upon the world, — for Southey had 
always found a home in Miss Tyler's house, — there 
was an urgent necessity for action. He had repudiated 
physic, and loathed the law. It was, therefore, no slight 
difficulty to choose a profession. His heart was set to- 
wards literature, but he knew too well the drudgery and 
precariousness of such labour to depend upon it for his 
daily bread. As a source of refinement, as the pleasure 
of his leisure hours, as the path to undying fame, he was 
ready to regard its claims with the highest respect. But 
he could not disguise to himself the fact, that it was a 
field which offered no substantial prizes to the ambition 
of its devotees. The Church, the Army, the Bar, even 
the Medical Profession, held out rewards and honours 
to the distinguished among its members ; but Litera- 
ture had no place, no recognised position in society, 
and he, with many others, shrank from encountering 
its mental toils and unrequited labours. Necessity, 
however, drew him into the vortex, and circumstances 
kept him chained to it to the last hour of his intel- 
lectual existence. 



46 FIKST PUBLICATIONS. 

In conjunction with Eobert Lovell, Southey had 
published during the course of this year a small volume 
of poems ; at the same time a vacancy occurred on the 
" Telegraph " newspaper, and the situation of reporter 
was offered him. Being apprehensive that the night- work 
would be injurious to his health, he declined the office ; 
nor could he disguise his disinclination to becoming a 
political and party writer. Seeing so many avenues 
closed, he determined to deliver a series of lectures. 
Coleridge, who was also in straitened circumstances, 
joined him in the plan, choosing political and moral, 
whilst Southey selected historical subjects. Tickets for 
admission rose to half- a- guinea the course. The 
lectures were delivered at Bristol, well attended, and 
generally admired. Some literary employment which 
Southey obtained upon a new publication, called " The 
Citizen," and for which he was to receive a guinea and 
a half per week, was a more substantial and permanent 
source of income; and as he was economical in all 
his habits, this small sum, in his hands, sufficed to sup- 
port him comfortably. 

Southey had made an effort, but without success, 
to print his "Joan of Arc" by subscription. Its publi- 
cation, such was the warmth of his imagination, would 
bring his name conspicuously before the world, and he 
should be numbered amongst the immortal poets of his 
country. Already he felt the bays growing around his 
temples. It is not, therefore, surprising, that an oppor- 



ME. COTTLE A GENEKOUS OFFEK. 47 

tunity which now occurred of producing his epic, should 
fill him with the most animated delight. During the 
first stage of the Pantisocratic fever, Southey had been 
introduced by Lovell to Mr. Cottle, bookseller and pub- 
lisher of Bristol, and likewise a poet, whose name will 
ever be pleasingly associated with that of the Laureate's. 
Admiring a portion of the poem that was read to him, 
this generous patron offered fifty pounds, and as many 
copies as Southey might have subscriptions for, for the 
manuscript. The whole of this business was transacted 
on the most friendly terms ; and, to do greater justice to 
the aspiring poet, Mr. Cottle procured a new press and 
a new type, and determined that the work should make 
its appearance amongst the grave and ponderous ranks 
of quarto volumes. 

Whilst, however, " Joan of Arc" was going through 
the press, Mr. Hill returned from Portugal. Observing 
that his nephew was still without a settled plan for the 
future, he took occasion quietly to remonstrate with, him, 
and delicately adduced such reasons as might, in his 
opinion, remove the scruples and doubts in Southey 's 
mind. His arguments, how.ever, were firmly met : and 
when he perceived that it would be impossible, so firmly 
rooted were his republican principles, to divert his nephew 
from them, a further proposition was made to him that 
he should accompany his uncle back to Lisbon. He 
would, it was suggested, have an opportunity of be- 
coming acquainted with the literature of Spain and 



48 VISIT TO LISBON EDITH FEICKEE. 

Portugal, a wide field for his reading and research, and 
entirely untrodden. The offer thus made could not 
have found any one more capable of appreciating it, or 
benefiting by it, than Southey. His application to 
reading, his fondness for quaint and antiquated books 
and manuscripts, his attachment to the histories of the 
past, combined to render him peculiarly adapted for 
entering upon such a course of literature. Accordingly 
the proposal was accepted, and preparations for the 
voyage commenced. 

Before quitting England, however, he determined 
to marry Miss Edith Fricker, to whom he had been 
for some time betrothed. This may be censured by 
some, as an imprudent step ; but the feeling w 7 hich 
prompted it was no less honourable than generous. He 
knew his own constancy; the attachment with which 
he regarded her he was conscious would continue un- 
abated : he felt that her faith in him was entire. But 
an objection had always been urged by his friends 
against the marriage. It was even rumoured that one 
object with which he was persuaded to the proposed 
journey was to weaken his affection for her, and in 
removing every shade of anxiety from her mind he 
recognised his duty. Another reason might be ad- 
duced. The friends of Miss Fricker were in reduced 
circumstances, and he was desirous of relieving their 
necessities by aiding in her support. A feeling of 
delicacy might induce a refusal of such remittances as 



A K0MANTIC MAEEIAGE. 49 

he should have it in his power to send, in their present 
relation to one another, but he felt that were he her 
husband no such objection could exist. 

On the 14th of November, 1793, the day appointed 
for his leaving Bristol to meet the packet at Falmouth, 
this romantic marriage was celebrated. As soon as the 
ceremony was performed, the husband and wife parted 
at the church-door ; the one to pursue his journey to 
foreign shores; the other to take up her abode with 
their mutual friend Mr. Cottle, until the return of her 
husband. The wedding-ring she wore around her neck, 
and retained her maiden name, until the report of her 
marriage having become generally known, concealment 
was useless. 



50 AN UNPLEASANT DELAY. 



CHAPTER V. 

Delay at Falmouth — Character of Mr. Hill — Portuguese His- 
tory — Coruria — Spanish Inns — Description of the Town — 
His Journey — Mules and Bells — Description of Scenery — 
Villages — The Country People — Madrid — The Palace — The 
Theatres — The Fiesta de Novillos — Grand Parade of the 
King — Entrance to Badajos — Adea Gallega — Lisbon — "Let- 
ters from Spain and Portugal" — Character of South ey. 

Upon his arrival at Falmouth, Southey found that ad- 
verse winds had detained the vessel, and that a delay of 
an indefinite period might be the consequence. As the 
wind, too, might change, and the packet appear at any 
hour in the offing, he was obliged to keep himself in rea- 
diness to embark at a moment's notice. In this solitary 
and captive condition — for he was unacquainted with a 
single person in the town, and his recent separation 
from his wife made his loneliness still more painfully 
sensible to him — he amused himself by taking short 
trips into the immediate neighbourhood, writing letters 
to his friends, and watching the waters of the horizon. 
At length, after a week had been thus consumed, the 



CHARACTER OF MR. HILL. 51 

vessel was seen stealing steal thily along, and in a short 
time Southey was on board, bidding adieu to the white 
cliffs of his native land. 

In the company of his uncle the time passed as 
pleasantly away as the Bay of Biscay would allow. 
The voyage gave him an opportunity of becoming better 
acquainted with his friend and benefactor. In Mr. 
Hill he found a gentleman who, by his education and 
natural accomplishments, extensive reading, and refined 
taste, could direct and delight, as well as appreciate, 
the aspirations of genius. In his conversation he pre- 
served a moderation, and in his general conduct a 
generosity, that tested the qualities of his heart; and 
though wide was the difference between him and his 
nephew on matters religious and political, he allowed 
not a diversity of sentiment to contract the liberality of 
his feelings, or disturb the equanimity of his temper. 
He had resided for some time in Lisbon, and been led 
by the peculiar bent of his mind to inquire inttf the 
history and literature of Spain and Portugal. His 
office, as Chaplain of the British Factory at Lisbon, 
gave him peculiar facilities for prosecuting his re- 
searches. Nor did he omit to avail himself of the 
opportunities thus afforded. He had by this means 
acquired an extensive library of rare and curious books 
upon the subject, and several manuscripts, containing 
information about these countries, as well as their 
Eastern and American dependencies, little, if not al- 



52 FOREIGN SHORES. 

together unknown. To this library Southey had sub- 
sequently free access ; and Mr. Hill was greatly grati- 
fied to perceive in his nephew so strong a fondness for 
the records of the past, and gave full scope to the 
indulgence of this passion. 

Instead of sailing direct for the Tagus, Mr. Hill 
had determined upon taking an inland tour as far as 
Madrid, and returning from thence by Talavera de la 
Keyna and Badajos, into Portugal. Accordingly he 
disembarked at Corufia, which they reached on the 
16th of December. Upon landing, Southey, like every 
other observant traveller, was confused by the multi- 
plicity of novel objects that surrounded him — the dress 
of the inhabitants, the style of the architecture, and the 
strangeness of their, to him, unintelligible language, 
which, more than anything, conveyed to his mind the 
conviction that he was in a land of strangers. 

The accommodations in this, as well as all the other 
towns he passed through, he found infamously bad. 
The character of the hotel — it was the best in the 
place — the habits of the inmates, and the taste of the 
cooks, equally disgusted him. Every dish was satu- 
rated with oil, rancid, to gratify the palate of the 
Spaniards, and garlic, intolerably strong in odour ; 
whilst the cellarage supplied a meagre wine, which ex- 
alted the English small beer into nectar. The same 
room served for a dormitory and parlour, and so dread- 
ful was the suffering he endured on retiring to rest — 



CORUNA. 53 

equivocal term ! — that lie imagined himself sufficiently 
"flead * alive," to represent for a painter the martyrdom 
of St. Bartholomew. 

" Jacob's pillar of stone," writes Southey, describing 
his first night in Spain, " was a down-cushion com- 
pared to that which bruised my head last night ; and 
my bed had all possible varieties of hill and vale, in 
whose recesses the fleas lay safe, or otherwise I should 
inevitably have broken their bones by rolling over 
them. Our apartment is certainly furnished with 
windows ; and he who takes the trouble to examine 
may convince himself that they have once been glazed. 
The night air is very cold, and I have one solitary 
blanket; but it is a very pretty one, with red and 
yellow stripes. Add to this catalogue of comforts, that 
the cats were saying soft things in most vile Spanish, 
and you may judge what refreshment I have derived 
from sleep." 

When Southey had sufficiently recovered from, the 
fatigue of the voyage, the town and its attractions were 
successively visited. Well paved, and containing a 
good market-place ornamented with an elegant foun- 
tain, Coruna disgusted him with the profusion of its 
filth, which, instead of being carried off by proper 
scavengers or sewage, was left in the middle of the 
street until the sun dried it up, or the wind swept it 

* The pun is Southey's. 



54 PENINSULAR TRAVELLING. 

away. As he advanced farther into the country, how- 
ever, the same uncleanly economy prevailed ; and 
though he could not become reconciled to the offensive 
custom, he grew, perhaps, less conscious of it. 

After remaining at Coruna for a few days, they 
proceeded upon their journey in a coach-and-six — the 
six referring to the mules, which were decorated with 
blue, yellow, and purple ribbons, and a number of ever- 
jingling bells. To an Englishman the use of these 
musical ornaments — there were sixteen to each beast — 
might appear useless. But the Spaniard assigns four 
reasons for using them. The roads are narrow in his 
country, and the sound of the bells gives warning to 
any approaching muleteer not to enter the defile till the 
road is clear ; they are, also, found serviceable of a dark 
night, and so far reason justifies the practice ; but how 
far the animal is gratified, as they affirm, by a torrent 
of discordant notes ringing in his ears, the naturalist 
must decide ; and those who will may believe that the 
cross, which is inscribed upon each bell, wards off the 
devil. 

"The road," says Southey, "is excellent. It is one 
of those works in which despotism applies its giant 
force to purposes of public utility. The villages we 
passed through were mean and dirty ; the houses are in 
that style of building with which the pencil of Gaspar 
Poussin had taught me to associate more ideas of com- 
fort than I realised. I was delighted with the wild 



SPANISH SCENERY. 55 

and novel prospect : hills beyond hills far as the eye 
could extend, part involved in shadow, and the more 
distant illumed with the westering sun; but no object 
ever struck me as more picturesque than where a few 
branchless pines on the distant eminence crested the 
light with their dark-foliaged heads. The water winds 
into the country, forming innumerable islets of sand — 
and, as we advanced, of mud — sometimes covered with 
such vegetation as the tide would suffer. We saw fig- 
trees and chestnuts, and passed one little coppice of oaks 
— scanty trees, and evidently struggling with an un- 
grateful soil. By the wayside were many crucifixes for 
adoration, and I counted six monumental crosses ; but 
it is probable that most of these monuments are over 
people who have been murdered in some private quarrel, 
and not over robbers." 

As Southey and his uncle continued their route, the 
country became more wild and more beautiful. On one 
side bold and abrupt mountains ; here bald precipices of 
rocks ; there ranges richly varied with pines, leafless 
chestnut-trees, and oaks that still retained their withered 
foliage, rose before them. On the right a soft dingle, 
sunk at the base of a dark and barren hill, following 
the windings of a limpid rivulet, reposed beneath them. 
On the left a stream, foaming along its rocky channel, 
now intercepted by some tall cliff, now visible beyond, 
wound its serpentine length along until lost in thick 
woods. The furze which covered the hills, and was in 



56 A CONTKAST. 

blossom, lent a rich colouring and additional charm to 
the features of the landscape. 

If nature were so beautiful and grand, and his feel- 
ings sometimes wrought up to a state of rapturous 
delight whilst gazing upon them, the description which 
Southey gives of man and his habitations were less 
favourable. " I should think," thus commences the 
picture, " Griteru the worst town in Europe, if we were 
not now at Bamonde.* Judge how bad that place 
must be where I do not wish that you were with me. 
At none of these houses have they any windows, and if 
you would exclude the air you must also exclude the 
light. There are two beds in the room; their high 

heads sanctified with a crucifix, which M observed 

must certainly be a monumental cross in memory of 
the last traveller devoured by the bugs." 

The scenery varying as they proceeded onward, 
sometimes grand and sublime, always beautiful, they 
visited Lugo Astorza Benevente, Vega del Toro, and 
arrived at Madrid after having accomplished a journey 
of four hundred and ten miles in about three weeks. 
The same picture of humanity presented itself from one 
end to the other. The villages were poor and mean, 
the houses low and unaccommodating, subject to every 
kind of discomfort, and always uncleanly. Of the in- 
habitants an uniformly unfavourable description is 

* Towns situated in Gallicia, at which Southey and his uncle 
were compelled to stop during their journey. 



PALACES AND POSADAS. 57 

given. Possessed of that careless exhilaration which 
belongs to people reduced by despotism to regard their 
property and their lives as dependent upon the caprice 
of a government, they were always in good humour, 
and exhibited a reckless cheerfulness which contrasted 
strongly with the squalid poverty of their condition. 
Women would praise, and affect a display of taste by 
praising the muslins of England, who had scarcely a 
rag to cover them, and who took so little care of their 
person that they seldom indulged in the luxury of a 
bath. The only entrance for the light or exit for the 
smoke of the room of their posada, or inn, was through 
the stable. Occasionally a public building, a cathedral, 
a bridge, a nobleman's mansion, a tower, or a market- 
place, stood out from amongst these lowly hovels, and 
the monasteries and convents bespoke a higher degree 
of taste and more considerations of comfort ; yet 
Southey frequently found the palaces of the state offi- 
cers, the magistrates, and other important functionaries, 
such crazy, ill-adjusted buildings, that they would dis- 
grace the meanest house in England by a compaiison. 
For the greater portion of the year the climate is so 
mild and genial that a shelter from the intolerable rays 
of the sun — and what better shield than the umbra- 
geous foliage of the cork-tree or the groves of orange? 
— is all that is required. Beneath the shade of trees 
the summer months are passed — and summer months 
are not so fleet in Spain as in our northern climes — 



58 CKEEDS AND GOVERNMENTS. 

and every kind of gaiety and merriment is pursued by 
the careless Spaniard. The easy faith that is inculcated 
in the tender mind of the child — the belief in the 
power and miracles of saints, the mother of God, and 
the holiness of the Church — relieves their consciences 
from the weightier thoughts of the future. Absolved 
from past sin by the parish priest on performance of 
some trifling penance, they are ready to commit some 
new crime, or plunge into the excitement of village 
festivals, which abstract the mind from the duties of 
life and degenerate man in the indulgence of effe- 
minate pleasures. Religion and civil government go 
hand in hand. Where the one is pure and enlight- 
ened, where its doctrines breathe a spirit of liberality 
and independence, there the other is great and powerful, 
the people are free and happy, the nations wealthy and 
prosperous. In Spain the civil institutions have caught 
the temper of the ecclesiastical polity. The latter, 
ignorant and bigoted, cruel and avaricious, has in- 
structed the government in the arts of injustice, ra- 
pacity, and oppression, has reduced the people to a 
degraded and enslaved condition, and rendered the 
country poor, weak, and distracted. By one of the laws 
all innkeepers are compelled to give a daily account of 
what persons have been in their posada during the day, 
their names, their conduct, and their conversation, to 
the magistrate of the district ; and are, if any man of a 
suspicious appearance walk by their houses, to inform 



MADRID. 5y 

the same functionary, on pain of being answerable for 
any mischief he may do. Such is the system of espion- 
age which Southey found in that country; nor is it 
much improved after a lapse of half a century and the 
experience of revolutions and dethronements. 

The approach to Madrid from the north is acknow- 
ledged to be very beautiful. The number of towers, 
the bridge of Segovia, and the palace, give it an appear- 
ance of grandeur which there are no suburbs to destroy ; 
and a fine poplar-planted walk by the river gives an 
agreeable variety to the scene. Within the walls a less 
imposing scene was presented. The houses were tall, 
and the streets so narrow that it was at the risk of con- 
siderable injury from passing vehicles that Southey 
could venture down some of the thoroughfares ; and 
"Le Calle • angusta de los periglos," the narrow street 
of dangers, seems by its name to indicate the frequency 
of accidents that occurred there. The necessaries of 
life were extremely dear, and the comforts not to be 
procured. It was Southey' s opinion that if its central 
position be subtracted, all its advantages as the metro- 
polis and city of the court would be subtracted. Severely 
cold in winter, it is intolerably hot in summer ; and the 
Manzanares, its only river, is a shallow and unnavi- 
gable stream, and only of any importance when heavy 
winds or the melting of the snow swelled it into a rapid 
torrent. 

Yet there were edifices which presented much mag- 



60 THE FRANCISCAN CONVENT. 

nificence ; the gates were numerous and handsome, and 
the fountains pleasant and picturesque.* The Prado 
was a fine promenade, and the Calle de Alcala might 
rank with some of the finest streets in Europe. There 
was, moreover, a cleanliness exhibited in the condition 
and aspect of the city, which he had not experienced 
since his landing at Coruna. At the picture-gallery of 
the Palace he derived a high and intellectual pleasure, 
and in the cloisters of the new Franciscan convent 
received a similar gratification; the whole history of 
that saint, from his cradle to his grave, being repre- 
sented in a fine series of drawings, which he considered 
deserved to be engraved, so ably had " human genius 
been employed in perpetuating human absurdity." The 
national theatre he frequented for the sake of the Spa- 
nish comedy, and was glad to see it patronized by 
crowded houses ; but the Italian opera was neglected, 
and he expresses his astonishment upon the occasion, 
that " an amusement so absurd" should so generally be 
patronized by the different courts of Europe, and points 
to the injustice inflicted upon native industry by the 
profuse encouragement of exotic talent. 

Few sojourners at Madrid have not visited a bull- 
fight. Southey attended the Fiesta de Novillos, a 
milder kind of sport, in which the object is to teaze the 

* Sometimes water, issuing from the mouth of a bear, in- 
stead of a Triton, a dolphin, or a river-god, exhibited a want 
of taste in the artist or founder. 



A NOVEL JOURNEY. 61 

animal and render him irritated, rather than furious 
and savage. It might be called the comedy of the bull- 
fight. The horns of the bullock are tipped to prevent 
any serious injury to the combatants, and the heroes of 
the fight, enclosed in basket-work, approach fearlessly 
to the enemy, The fun to the spectators consists in 
the aggressors rushing away and leaping over the bar- 
riers, or being rolled about in their basket-case by the 
bullock. After this representation four tame oxen 
were driven in and chased about by the teazed beast, 
which was followed by the more formidable and cruel 
spectacle of the boar-hunt. There were fifteen thou- 
sand persons present, men, women, and children. 
What hope is there of a nation, is Southey s reflection 
upon the occasion, where such are the fashionable 
popular amusements ? 

After a stay of scarcely a fortnight in Madrid, 
Southey and his uncle commenced their journey to 
Lisbon. Although the general features of the cpuntry 
were the same as those on their way to Madrid, yet the 
olive plantations of the south and woods of evergreen 
oaks made their progress now more diversified and 
lively. After a day's toil and travel, they came in 
sight of the towers of Talavera, upon which town 
Southey bestows the eulogy of its having the only 
bookseller's shop that he had seen in the provinces. 

Their stay in Madrid was prolonged by peculiar cir- 
cumstances. The king had set out upon a visit with 



62 A ROYAL RAID. 

his whole court to the King of Portugal. The interview 
was to take place on the frontiers nearest to Badajos on 
the Spanish, and Elvas on the Portuguese side. The 
retinue of his majesty on this journey consisted of seven 
thousand persons. Everything — such is the law or the 
absolutism of the land — of whatever character it might 
be, if required,, was embargoed for his service, and the 
wretched subject lamented, in consequence, the waste of 
his time, too frequently the loss of his property. At 
first, Mr. Hill entertained some hope, that by the in- 
fluence of the Marquis Yranda a carriage might be 
secured : but none could be obtained ; and such was the 
scarcity of accommodation, that six hundred people of 
rank, independently of their attendants, were obliged to 
lie in the open air on the first night of this parade. 
When, however, Southey and his uncle had advanced 
about 120 miles upon their route, they found them- 
selves in the neighbourhood of the court; and "never 
did I witness,"* says Southey, "a more melancholy 
scene of desolation ! His most Catholic Majesty 
travels like the king of the gypsies ; his retinue 
strip the country without paying for anything, sleep 
in the woods, and burn down the trees." On the 
road, mules, horses, and asses, were found lying dead, 
destroyed by excessive fatigue. The charioteer — the 
same was the proprietor of the vehicle — when they 

* " Letters from Spain and Portugal," p. 201. 



TKUXILLO BADAJOS. 63 

approached within three days' journey of the procession, 
refused at first to proceed any farther, being appre- 
hensive that his carriage would be seized ; but as the 
only other path lay amongst the mountains, and an 
equal danger arose from the robbers and the torrents, 
the difficulty was at length overcome. 

At Truxillo, so completely had the court demolished 
everything that they could procure no kind of pro- 
vision, not even an egg. With the town itself, seen 
from the road to Badajos, Southey was particularly 
struck. The ruins of many outworks were visible, and 
grand rocks ; the broom growing in blossom amongst the 
crevices. The mountain of Santa Cruz was another 
picturesque object, and formed the boldest mass of 
abrupt rocks, interspersed with cultivated spots and 
olive-yards, he had ever seen ; and a village, with a 
pretty convent lying at the base of it, gave the addi- 
tional charm of life to a beautiful and magnificent 
picture. 

They soon after arrived at Badajos, went through 
the formalities of the Customs, were disgusted with the 
scrutiny and delay, hurried on to the river that separates 
the two kingdoms, crossed it by a ford — the bridge was 
reserved for royal wheels — and found shelter at Elvas. 
The scene that here presented itself was one of extreme 
gaiety : between the two towns booths were erected for 
the courtiers passing backwards and forwards, and for 
the multitude who thronged around the royal tent. 



64 LISBON CINTKA ARABIDA. 

After five days' further travelling they arrived at Adea 
Gallega, where they were fortunate enough to procure a 
boat ; and after a rough and unpleasant passage of two 
hours landed at Lisbon, just in time to feel the shock 
of an earthquake. Southey remained on the banks of 
the Tagus for about four months, disgusted with the 
uncleaniiness of the city, the manners of the people, 
and the conduct of the government, but charmed with 
the scenery of the neighbourhood, the beauties of 
Arabida and the orange-groves of C intra. He returned 
home about the middle of May. As he made a longer 
stay in Lisbon in the first year of the present century, 
his remarks and impressions of that city will be given 
at that period of his life. 

Southey had spent much time during this tour in 
acquiring a knowledge of the language and literature 
of the two countries, and on his return to England pub- 
lished an account of his travels and inquiries in the 
"Letters from Spain and Portugal." The most friendly 
feelings existed between himself and his uncle. The 
latter, writing to a friend, thus describes the character of 
his nephew : — " He is a very good scholar, of great read- 
ing, of an astonishing memory ; when he speaks he does 
it with fluency, with a great choice of words. He is per- 
fectly correct in his behaviour, of the most exemplary 
morals, and the best of hearts. Were his character dif- 
ferent, or his abilities not so extraordinary, I should be 
less concerned about him ; but to see a young man of 



ABILITIES AND CHAEACTER. 65 

such talent as he possesses, by the misapplication of 
them, lost to himself and to his family, is what hurts me 
very sensibly indeed. In short, he has everything you 
could wish a young man to have, excepting common 
sense and prudence." Southey's not entering the Church, 
in which he might have obtained preferment, the readi- 
ness with which he expressed his sentiments on religious 
political subjects, and his having married without any 
visible means of supporting a wife, are the symptoms of 
imprudence alluded to in the letter. 



66 MELANCHOLY NEWS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Death of Kobert Lovell — His Widow — Opinions — Literary 
Labours — Study of the Law — Life in London — Burton — 
John Rickman — His brother Thomas — Convalescent Asy- 
lum — " Morning Post " — George Burnett — His brother 
Henry — Visit to Norwich — Mr. Taylor — Verses to his Wife. 

1 Mtat. 22-24. 

The last person to whom Southey bade adieu upon 
leaving his native shore was his brother-in-law, Robert 
Lovell. The first news that greeted his return was the 
melancholy tidings of this young man's death. Having 
risen prematurely from a sick bed, and exposed himself 
to too violent exercise on a hot summer's day, he fell a 
victim to a severe fever, the result of his indiscretion. 
A widow with one child was left destitute by the event. 
To relieve her helpless condition, and to place her in a 
position where she might by her own exertions obtain 
a livelihood, Southey collected the best pieces of the 
deceased poet, wrote a preface and dedicatory letter to 
the widow : and as the work was published by subscrip- 
tion, used his influence with his friends to increase the 
list, and make the sale a profitable speculation. It may 



EXPERIENCE AND PRINCIPLES. 67 

here be mentioned, that Mrs. Lovell afterwards became 
one of his household ; that she was supported by him 
until his death, and was subsequently received into his 
son's household, and that she still remains the last sur- 
vivor of the Pantisocratic scheme. 

The opinions of Southey during his absence had 
undergone no perceptible change. His views upon 
ecclesiastical if not political subjects continued appa- 
rently the same, but it is evident now they had become 
considerably modified by his intercourse with the world. 
Every day's experience was teaching him a new lesson, 
and though advocating the same principles, his thoughts 
had been much influenced by contemporary events.* 
The enthusiasm of his earlier years was cooling down. 
The ambition which had filled his heart with vague and 
cosmopolitan affections, the visionary ideas for reform- 
ing the world that floated in his mind, were yielding to 

* So early as 1793, his feelings, if not his opinions, upon 
democratic government had suffered a severe shock. " I am 
sick of this world, and discontented with every one in it," he 
writes at this period. " The murder of Brissot has completely 
harrowed up my faculties, and I hegin to believe that virtue can 
only aspire to content in obscurity ; for happiness is out of the 
question. I look round the world, and everywhere find the same 
mournful spectacle, — the strong tyrannizing over the weak, man 
and beast; the same depravity pervades the whole creation; op- 
pression is triumphant everywhere : and the only difference is, 
that it acts in Turkey through the anger of a grand seignior ; in 
France, of a revolutionary tribunal; and in England, of a prime 
minister." 



68 A NEW STUDY. 

a more practical view of things. He believed the 
world to possess more attainable happiness than he had 
hitherto imagined, and contracting his wishes within the 
limits of his own hearth or the circle of his friends, he 
felt that in the due discharge of his duty there was more 
real satisfaction than in ranging the regions of meta- 
physics or fretting about the unreasonableness of mon- 
archies or pantisocracies. 

Southey had resumed, upon his return, his literary 
labours, as a temporary means of subsistence ; but he still 
dreaded depending upon his pen for his daily support. 
His ambition was to write for the world, and during the 
leisure of his life to produce works that should raise 
and perpetuate a brilliant reputation. He therefore 
repudiated, in his heart, the manner in which his time 
seemed frittered away, as well as the uncertainty of the 
provision it made for himself and those dependent upon 
him. To relieve himself from the necessity of periodical 
writing, he determined to undertake the study of the 
law, and for that purpose entered at Gray's Inn in the 
February of 1799. The means of accomplishing his 
object were afforded him by the generosity of his friend 
Mr. Charles Wynn, who, upon the ground of services 
rendered to him by Southey at Oxford, but more pro- 
bably as a mark of his esteem and friendship, liberally 
allowed him an annuity of 160Z. 

Two antipathies were to be overcome by Southey in 
his new undertaking. He had never disguised his dislike 



LAW AND POETEY. 69 

of the legal profession and large towns ; but to carry out 
his desires, a residence in London during a great por- 
tion of the year was indispensable. He declared, how- 
ever, that no exertion should be wanting on his part in 
the trial; and even if he could not at length bring 
himself to find actual pleasure in it, he was determined 
that the repugnance he felt should not obtain the mas- 
tery over him. He, however, evidently understood not 
the study of the law. Having entered it with the pur- 
pose of gaining an easy independence, he hoped to 
satisfy its claims by acquiring just sufficient for general 
practice. Such a languid spirit would be fatal in any 
study, how much more so in a study in which there 
are few internal incitements, and where dry terms and 
abstruse technicalities not only surpass the compre- 
hension of the uninitiated world, but puzzle and be- 
wilder the brains of the elect. In fact, no labour 
requires more devotion and hearty application than the 
acquisition of a knowledge of the law. Southey further 
endeavoured, strange as it may appear, to make this 
study and the composition of poetry amalgamate. 
When he replaced the ponderous tomes of jurisprudence 
upon their creaking shelves, " Madoc" was at hand; 
and with the Prince of Wales he wandered over foreign 
shores, and refreshed his mind in the luxuriant woods 
and boundless pampas of Mexico. It will not, there- 
fore, seem surprising that Southey 's progress was slow, 



TO CHAKLES LAMB. 

or, perhaps, more properly speaking, retrogressive, and 
that at a subsequent period he relinquished the pro- 
fession altogether. 

Southey's early habits, it has been remarked, had 
induced a spirit of reserve, which affected his conduct in 
society through life, and rendered him at all times 
extremely reluctant to enter its circle. The company 
of a few friends whom he thoroughly understood, and to 
whom he was equally well known, no man could more 
fully appreciate or enjoy. On the occasion of this visit 
to London, however, he was introduced to more of its 
world than was usual with him. He became acquainted 
with several literati of the day, principally of the God- 
win school, of whom he has left no flattering description. 
But his most agreeable hours were spent with Grosvenor 
Bedford, Charles Wynn, and Charles Lamb. In their 
society he felt himself perfectly at home, and could 
throw off that reserve which so habitually enshrouded 
him. Then he would enliven all by the cheerfulness of 
his conversation, his flow of fun and anecdote, and in the 
fascination of this happiness forget the dusty chambers 
and the busy, noisy hum, of the vast city around him. 

His literary employments at this time — for his 
hands were never void of some such occupations — were 
translations for a bookseller, and essays for the 
" Monthly Magazine." The translation was of the 
second volume of Necker on the Revolution, Dr. 



LITERAEY ENGAGEMENTS. 71 

Aikin and his son having just completed the first. The 
essays were upon Spanish and Portuguese poetry ; but, 
in addition to these, he had in contemplation a series of 
poems upon the scenes he had passed through in his 
travels, embodying the feelings and reflections they 
naturally gave rise to. 

It was not long before he began to consider whether 
Blackstone might not be as readily studied in the free and 
fresh air of the country as in the dingy courts of Gray's 
Inn. He sighed for the woods and green fields ; and 
as the spring advanced he determined to leave town. 
Hardly waiting the last dinner of the term, he hurried 
off to Southampton to obtain lodgings for the summer. 
He failed, however, in the attempt here, but was more 
successful at Burton, near Whitchurch; whither he went 
to reside with his wife and mother, Mrs. Lovell, and 
her child. In this retreat he could fill his fancy full of 
natural and rural beauties. The sea was before them, 
the New Forest at hand, and a congregation of streams, 
the clearest he had ever seen. The enjoyment which 
he thus derived from indulging his fondness for the 
country, was still more increased by the society at this 
time gathered around his board. The liberal and 
friendly Joseph Cottle, and his brother Thomas Southey, 
at that time midshipman on board the " Phoebe " fri- 
gate, became partakers of his hospitality. The presence 
of the latter was particularly agreeable and satisfactory. 



72 SOUTHEY AT BUKTON. 

Having been taken prisoner by the French, he was 
confined in the town of Brest, and with others of his 
vessel subjected to very harsh treatment. He had only 
been recently set at liberty, and the use he made of his 
leave of absence was to join his friends at Burton. 
Charles Lloyd, who, though not a lake-poet, has been 
associated with them, also became his guest ; and it was 
Southey's good fortune to enjoy the occasional society of 
John Bickman and John May, who continued amongst 
his warmest friends to the close of his life. The former 
became afterwards one of the clerks in the House of 
Commons ; and for the latter, he commenced that series 
of amusing autobiographical letters which, we lament, 
he did not live to complete. Towards the end of Sep- 
tember, however, Southey left his rural retreat for Bath, 
whence, having paid a short visit to his mother, he re- 
turned to London to resume the study of the law. 

His principal literary occupations at this time were 
magazine- writing, and preparing a second edition of 
" Joan of Arc." In this revision he extracted those 
portions which came from the pen of Coleridge, and 
made several other alterations that suggested themselves 
to his more matured judgment, or had been advised by 
friendly critics. To enable him to do more justice to 
his epic, admission was offered him into the library of a 
Dissenting community, where a mine of literary wealth 
lay concealed beneath the dust and cobwebs. The 



A CONVALESCENT ASYLUM. 73 

" Critical Review," upon which he had obtained an 
engagement, also took up a considerable portion of his 
time. 

Nor were his labours confined to literary or legal 
pursuits. His mind was ever busy in conceiving plans 
and schemes that he hoped might benefit mankind. 
Amongst the first that he was engaged in, and which 
now occupied his attention, was a charitable institution, 
which, if established, would relieve the sick of the poorer 
classes of an infinite amount of suffering. His co-part- 
ners in the design were John May and Carlisle, whose 
acquaintance he had made during his former stay in 
London. The object of this institution was to assist 
those who were discharged from the hospitals as cured. 
It must be evident to all that, by returning to their 
former homes, where impure air, cold, damp, and 
squalid filth, too frequently encompass tbem, they al- 
most invite a relapse. It occurred to Southey and his 
friends that this evil might be averted by having a 
large house, with extensive grounds attached to it, fitted 
up to accommodate the recovered, though still debili- 
tated patient. It was proposed, also, in their plan, to 
employ the inmates in the cultivation of the soil, the 
produce of which, it was hoped, would cover the ex- 
penses, whilst the exercise would strengthen the body 
and interrupt the monotony of the day. In winter 
evenings, when the state of the weather prevented out- 
door labour, it was suggested that a congenial employ- 



74 THE " MOENING POST." 

merit might be found in the manufacture of nets, mat- 
ting, or baskets. The women, who were to have a 
separate department in the establishment, were to have 
their appropriate duties assigned to them, and assist in 
the fabrication of articles which might contribute to the 
service and support of this " Convalescent Asylum." 
The labour of the patients was to be remunerated, and 
not exacted for more than six hours in the day. What 
they thus earned was to supply them with a fund for re- 
commencing life when they left the institution. This, 
like others of Southey's plans, was found to be too com- 
prehensive ; insuperable difficulties arose in the way of 
its establishment, and the project, after engaging a 
considerable portion of his thoughts, was ultimately 
abandoned. 

Finding his residence in London unfavourable to his 
own and his wife's health, and to avoid the " swarms " 
of acquaintances who " buzzed " about him, and dis- 
poned him of his valuable time, he remained but a short 
time in town, and towards the latter end of March re- 
tired to Bristol. Before he left, a new, and to him not 
unpleasant engagement, was entered into. A portion of 
the " Morning Post " was devoted to original poetry, 
and being requested to contribute to its columns at a 
guinea a-week, he readily accepted the offer, and libe- 
rally complied with the engagement. 

One of the most ardent friends of Pantisocracy, and 
one, perhaps, who suffered most by his connexion with 



GEOKGE BUKNETT — HENBY SOUTHEY. 75 

it, was George Burnett. He had been sent to Oxford 
with the view of entering the Church, but having be- 
come acquainted with Southey and Coleridge, he was 
inoculated with their new philosophy, and the advan- 
tages of their new republic. But his education did not 
rest here. They shook his confidence in the orthodox 
principles of the Christian belief, and cast his mind 
adrift upon the pathless sea of metaphysical inquiry. 
When the Pantisocratic scheme failed, his purposes 
both of thought and action were unfixed, and he himself 
unable to select or follow out a profession. Changing 
from one object to another, he at last became a Unita- 
rian minister. 

Southey' s estimate of his friend was unshaken by 
the turmoil and agitation of opinion he had undergone ; 
and such was the regard he felt for him, that he had 
placed his youngest brother, Henry, with him to be 
educated. Shortly after his return to Bristol, he deter- 
mined upon a journey to Norwich, the town, where 
Burnett was residing. Here he became introduced to 
Mr. Taylor, for whose learning, and many of whose 
opinions, he had the greatest esteem. Upon these 
grounds — the basis of so many of his friendships — an 
intimacy and correspondence, chiefly upon literary 
subjects, sprang up and continued for several years. 

During this visit, a portion of Southey 's time was 
spent at Ormsby, about six miles from Norwich. The 



76 A POETIC TKIBUTE. 

pleasantry of his description of the country is peculiarly 
indicative of the lightness of his heart. 

From Ormsby, Southey addressed some verses to his 
wife, full of fine feeling and affection, from which we 
give the following extract: — 

" There have been hours 
When I have longed to mount the winged bark, 
And seek those better climes where orange-groves 
Breathe on the evening gale voluptuous joy; 
And, Edith, though I heard from thee alone 
The pleasant accents of my native tongue, 
And saw no wonted countenance but thine, 
I could he happy in the stranger's land, 
Possessing all in thee. Oh, best beloved, 
Companion, friend, and yet a dearer name, 
I trod those better climes a heartless thing : 
Cintra's cool rocks, and where Arabida 
Lifts from the ocean its sublimer heights, 
Thine image wandered with me, and one wish 
Disturbed the deep delight." 



WESTBURY HUMPHRY DAVY. 7 7 



CHAPTER VII. 

Westbury — Humphry Davy — " Madoc " — Poetry — Engage- 
ments — Health — Tour through North Wales— Its Scenery 
— Strewing Graves — Play-wi*iting — Literary Eeputation — 
Reviews — A Strange Lady — Visit to London — Books — 
Suwarrow — Sabbath Mails — Tour through North Devon — 
Valley of Rocks — Settles at Burton. 

.Etat. 24-26. 

Upon his return from Norfolk, Southey located himself 
at Westbury, a beautiful spot within a short distance 
of Bristol. Situated in a wooded district, — the parks 
and mansions of noblemen and opulent merchants 
gracing its vicinity, — it further enjoyed some of the 
most romantic scenery that England can boast of. In 
this village Southey 's passion for the country and 
the picturesque was amply gratified. Humphry Davy 
(afterwards Sir Humphry) was among the number of 
those friends who shared the pleasures of this season. 
To him would the poet frequently recite parts of his 
" Madoc," which then principally engaged his thoughts, 



78 " MADOC " AND LAUGHING-GAS. 

and he felt no slight encouragement from the approba- 
tion which his friendly critic expressed. Southey, on the 
other hand, also gratified his friend by inhaling the 
nitrous oxide, or celebrated laughing-gas, which he had 
recently discovered ; and it is not improbable that they 
stimulated each other to unwearying exertions by in- 
dulging those impulses which seemed to speak within 
of future fame. 

This period of Southey's life was particularly devoted 
to poetry. He was enthusiastically fond of it, and his 
engagement on the "Morning Post" encouraged it. 
The number of lines he threw off appear, at first sight, 
incredible; but when we regard the character of his 
verses, and remember that most of his poems were 
slightly constructed, not only in violation of precedent, 
but also without the " seductive jingle" of rhyme — that 
the number of feet in each line are frequently few and 
arbitrary, or only obedient to such rules as he has laid 
down for himself, — the result will not be found so start- 
ling. It might be imagined, that in giving to the world 
such rapid effusions he was careless of his reputation : 
but such was not the case. It is probable that he con- 
sidered, that what he threw off for the paper were worth 
just as much as he was paid for them, and no more ; 
that they were ephemeral and anonymous, and could 
not affect his reputation. But when, as in the instance 
of the volumes of " Minor Poems," his name was 
attached, he sent several of his productions, to be re- 



SEDENTAEY HABITS. 79 

viewed previous to their publication, to his friend Charles 
Lamb, and submitted to his taste and judgment. 

Though his engagement for the "Morning Post" 
kept his pen constantly in his hand, and long and large 
were the draughts he made upon the inspiration of the 
Muses, he was also preparing a second edition of his 
"Letters from Spain and Portugal," the first volume of 
the " Annual Anthology," and a second edition of his 
"Minor Poems." The study of the law, which at first 
was distasteful, did not become more palatable upon a 
further acquaintance. He had made trial of its character, 
yet he could excite within himself no pleasurable interest 
in its behalf. The difficulty of committing to memory 
a set of dry terms and phrases, notwithstanding much 
assiduity, convinced him that he was not born under the 
sign Libra, and that, whatever were his natural talents, 
he never should be able to distinguish himself at the 
bar. The idea of the law, accordingly, grew into disuse, 
and finally faded away altogether. He was, meanwhile, 
intent upon the fulfilment of his literary duties, and 
applied himself with uninterrupted severity to reading 
and composition. 

Ill-health, the effects of his sedentary habits and in- 
tense mental application, had been for some time creep- 
ing upon him, and unpleasant, if not dangerous, symptoms 
now manifested themselves. He was accordingly ordered 
by his physician to take regular exercise ; and, with a 
view to restore Ins health to its early firmness, he spent 



80 NORTH WALES. 

the summer of this year in a pedestrian tour through 
North Wales. His companion in this excursion was 
Mr. Danvers, of Bristol, one of his most agreeable ac- 
quaintances. Having visited Dilwyn, the seat of the 
Tylers, and Shobden, where resided another branch of 
his family, he penetrated into Brecon, and examined 
some of the wildest and most romantic scenery of that 
county. Dark woods — glens deep seated in the shelter- 
ing recesses of broken hills — abrupt precipices, fringed 
with wild brambles, or crested with murmuring pines — 
tall cliffs, that almost met across some rugged gorge 
and darkened the abyss below — denies from whose nar- 
row pathway the blue sky is scarcely visible — boiste- 
rous streams, overhanging woods, and tracts of land, 
warm, verdant, and open to the sun, delighted him 
with their various beauty. Southey rejoiced in such 
scenes, and viewed them with the feelings of a poet and 
a moralist. 

Of the character of the Welsh peasantry he received 
a favourable impression during this tour. He was an 
acute physiognomist, and placed great faith in the for- 
mation of the human countenance as indicative of the 
disposition of the individual ; and from the pleasing in- 
telligence he observed in the faces of the people he par- 
tially drew his inferences. But a better criterion of 
their manners and habits might be found in the uniform 
civility he everywhere met with. 

At Merthyr he witnessed the affecting ceremony of 



affection's offering. 81 

strewing the graves. Two women were engaged in this 
sacred office. The one uttered, in the keenness of her 
sorrow, the grief that would not be restrained; the other, 
no less touched perhaps, but taught by a natural instinct 
to conceal her anguish, and let the bitterness of her heart 
be known to itself alone, attended in silence. The graves, 
which were coffin-shaped, were fenced round with white 
stones ; upon the gentle swell herbs were planted, and 
over these were strewn wild flowers. That soul must 
indeed be cold that can see nothing affecting in such 
pious customs. It is true, they cannot reach the dead ; 
the departed cannot feel them : yet if they express, as 
memorials frail indeed, the worth of those now no more 
— if they speak but of the fondness with which their 
memory is still regarded — if they tend but to teach a 
lesson of gentleness to the living, or soothe the wounded 
spirit of those that have been left to mourn, — shall we 
call them vain ? 

From this excursion Southey derived considerable 
benefit ; yet when he renewed his labours, sedentary 
habits began again seriously to affect his health. To 
prevent the progress of the evil, he resorted to regular 
daily exercise, which was scarcely ever intermitted during 
the most inclement weather. His engagements, how- 
ever, were not less pressing, and he had more upon his 
hands than he could possibly accomplish, except by con- 
stant assiduity. Such was the energy of his mind, how- 
ever, that he was ever planning new works. During his 

G 



82 DOMDANIEL PLAY-WKITING. 

tour in Wales he first conceived the idea of writing a 
poem upon the destruction of Domdaniel, a Moham- 
medan legend, which afterwards appeared under the title 
of " Thalaba, the Destroyer." 

It was the wish of many of his friends that he 
should engage in the drama, and attempt a play for the 
stage. In compliance with their wishes he undertook 
the task, but found that the plots which he had sketched 
contained too little incident to render success probable. 
" My wish is to make" — such is his reply — " something 
better than love the mainspring ; and I have one or two 
sketches, but all my plots seem calculated to produce 
one or two great scenes, rather than a general effect.'' 
This inability or failure in himself he was willing to 
attribute to the fact that his attention had been too much 
diverted by epic writing, which he conceived permitted 
of a longer action, and passed over uninteresting objects. 
By which he would infer that Homer could not have been 
a Sophocles, nor Shakspeare a Milton. It cannot be de- 
nied that Southey did well in declining a task for which 
he felt himself ill qualified. 

Southey s literary reputation, though not of rapid 
growth, was daily gaining ground. His writings had 
not met with that encouragement he so fondly antici- 
pated, and his published poems still hung on hand ; yet 
the booksellers found it worth their while to give him 
plenty of employment on the magazines and other peri- 
odicals of the day. The remuneration, however, was 



A CHARACTER. 83 

small, and his time, he considered, frittered away. Ee- 
viewing, especially, seems to have occupied the greater- 
portion of his time, and he has described with, consider- 
able gaiety the harassing nature of this employment. 

An episode of a" character too curious to be omitted 
occurred at this time, whilst Southey was resident at 
Westbury. One morning, whilst he and his family were 
at breakfast, an elderly lady, in a silk gown, a muff, and 
a shovel bonnet, entered the parlour where they were 
sitting, and without any sign of recognition, or even salu- 
tation, proceeded to the sideboard. Having, with the 
utmost sang J raid, deposited her muff upon a chair, she 
drew a chair to the fire (it was winter), threw her shawl 
back over her shoulders, seated herself, and ordered 
breakfast. The singularity of the circumstance, and the 
nonchalance of the lady, who was respectably attired, 
impressed the astonished company with the idea, that 
their guest had escaped from a lunatic asylum. Being 
apprehensive of evoking a spirit they could not> allay, 
and inclined to give full scope to the strangeness of the 
scene, her orders were complied with. There was, how- 
ever, a perfect harmlessness in their new visitor. She 
devoted herself in silence to her meal, and, with apparent 
zest, satisfied the cravings of her appetite. Having suc- 
ceeded so far, she placed the chair back in its former 
position, resumed her shawl and muff, and as she was 
about to depart, inquired what she had to pay. Being 



84 SOUTHEY AND ETIQUETTE. 

answered "Nothing," it was the stranger's turn to he sur- 
prised. " Is not this an inn?" " No !" was the reply. 
The good lady was confused ; the mistake became appa- 
rent, and all ended in a hearty laugh. It was, however, 
eventually ascertained that the house in which Southey 
resided, and to which he had given the name of "Martin 
Hall," had formerly been an inn, and within the memory 
of the stranger who had that morning honoured them 
with her presence at breakfast. 

In the May of this year (1799), Southey again went 
up to London, for the purpose of eating his dinners at 
Gray's Inn. His time upon such occasions w r as much 
occupied in visits to his friends. By this term we in- 
clude those who had become acquainted with him as a 
literary man, and those whom it was a duty to see, from 
their connexion with literature and the press. This was 
to him an irksome and fatiguing task. Could he have 
held a levee at his chambers, and could he have satis- 
fied his friends by such demonstrations of good- will, he 
would have been perfectly contented, and the reception 
they would have met with would have been welcome 
and hospitable. He could not, however, overcome his 
antipathy to indiscriminate calls and soirees, and his 
residence in the country but too unhappily confirmed 
the prejudice. Had he been thrown more into the 
society of the men of his own time, it is certain that he 
would have judged differently and more impartially of 



BOOK-HUNTING. 85 

them and their motives, and been saved the expression 
of many of those unjust imputations which occur in his 
books and disgrace their pages. 

A man who is fond of knowledge must necessarily 
entertain an affection for his library. Southey's greatest 
delight, no matter where he might be, was to collect 
together able works, whether in manuscript or print, 
and upon them he set a price higher than the mere 
marketable value of the books. When in London, few 
things were a source of greater pleasure to him than a 
visit to an old bookstall, where, under much dust, and 
an antiquated " used-up" appearance, he would fre- 
quently discover rare and curious authors. This love of 
books, however, was not in him the desire of having so 
many volumes or yards of printed and bound paper. He 
always read the books he purchased, and, generally, 
where the works were of authority, made a digest of 
their contents; and so largely had they accumulated, 
that at his death he possessed, considering the, limited 
means he had to bestow upon them, one of the most 
extensive and valuable libraries of any private individual 
in the kingdom. 

Dining out one day, a party of eighteen or twenty 
being present, the name of Suwarrow was proposed as a 
toast. This created an unpleasant surprise, both to 
Southey and a friend who sat near him. The conduct 
of Suwarrow at Warsaw was sufficiently odious to every 



00 TOAST TO SUWARKOW. 

liberal mind, and they felt indignant that such a com- 
pliment should be suggested at a British table, in 
honour of one who had seconded and carried out the 
views of a despicable tyrant. Southey was a stranger, 
his friend was more familiar at the house. The latter 
accordingly rose, and stated that there were those pre- 
sent who would regard it as an insult to the feelings 
of the nation were the toast drunk. Southey seconded 
the speech, and after a short conversation upon the 
general and upon Russian politics, the toast was with- 
drawn. 

From Southey' s letters we gather a piece of informa- 
tion, which may be considered useless in these precipi- 
tate days of steam and electricity, and yet may not be 
without interest as recording a custom that time and 
knowledge have abolished. Southey now returned to 
Bristol, and the time fixed for his starting was a Sunday 
evening. Having taken his seat upon the mail, he had 
not proceeded far before the horses gave unpleasant 
symptoms of restiveness and want of discipline. In 
fact, the coachman was for some time incapable of 
governing them, so that had a bridge, or turning, or one 
of those impediments which chance often throws in 
the way, been opposed to them, an upset would have 
been inevitable. When fatigue or his strong arm had 
brought them to, he offered his apology, by stating that 
it was customary to make trial of new horses for the 



OLD MAIL-COACHES. 87 

mails on Sundays, as no bags being sent out on those 
evenings, no interruption to business would occur what- 
ever accident took place ! 

Upon his arrival at Westbury, Southey found that 
he should be obliged to leave Martin Hall. He had 
resided there only a twelvemonth, yet his reminiscences 
of it were ever grateful to him. Looking back, long 
after, when he had experienced the baselessness of 
many of his fondest day-dreams, and the realisations of 
few projects, when sorrow and affliction had visited and 
chastened his spirit, — he singled out the year that he 
had spent in this delightful spot as the happiest of his 
life. 

On leaving Westbury he found a temporary home 
at the residence of his friend Danvers. On looking 
around him for a place to settle in, the remembrance of 
the many pleasant hours he had passed at Burton sug- 
gested the propriety of this spot. Accordingly, early in 
July he went down to a friend's at Christ church ; and 
after a short delay took a house, which he was not able 
to occupy until Michaelmas. This interval was spent 
by himself and Mrs. Southey in making a tour through 
North Devon, and visiting some of its most remarkable 
scenery. Ninehead, Lynmouth, the Valley of Rocks, 
Ilfracombe, and Exeter, mark the route he pursued, and 
suggest the exquisite variety of landscape he enjoyed. 

At Exeter he passed some pleasant days, abusing 
it as being the filthiest place in England, and eulogising 



88 VISIT TO DEVONSHIEE. 

it as possessing the best collection of books of any town 
or city that he knew of out of London. During this 
tour " Madoc " was progressed with, " Thalaba " was 
nearly completed, and a second volume of the "Annual 
Anthology " in preparation. He had also resolved upon 
undertaking the " History of Portugal," a subject the 
vastness of which he contemplated with increased 
strength, and which, he trusted, would more than any 
of his previous works contribute to his permanent repu- 
tation. 

Early in the October of 1799, Southey was at last 
settled at Burton, near Christchurch. 



NERVOUS SUSCEPTIBILITY. 89 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Indisposition of Southey — Return to Lisbon — Alarm at Sea — 
Coast of Portugal — Residence at Lisbon — Literary Labours 

— State of Lisbon — The Government — Condition of the 
People — Crime — Negroes — Charity — C atholicism — Cintra 

— Journey into the Interior — Preparations for quitting 
Portugal. 

Anno 1799-1800. 

Southey had not been long at Burton before bis old 
symptoms began to show themselves, and so low was his 
nervous system reduced, that although he was not trou- 
bled with the idea of any serious clanger, he was appre- 
hensive lest his illness should settle down into the 
worst habits of hypochondriacism, and palsy his intel- 
lectual powers. He was advised by his physician, Dr. 
Beddoe, to try a milder air, and return, if possible, to 
Lisbon. The associations he retained of the country 
were agreeable. There were, it is true, difficulties of a 
pecuniary nature in the way ; but after a month's delay 
the journey was rendered practicable, and every prepa- 
ration immediately pressed forward. 

Towards the latter end of April, Southey, accompa- 



90 



A FRIEND OR FOE. 



nied by his wife, left England, and on May-day arrived 
at Lisbon. The only excitement during the voyage was 
created by an incident which gave him, for the first and 
last time during his life, an idea of the preparations for 
battle. About five or six o'clock in the morning of the 
sixth day, whilst reposing calmly in their berths, — those 
excepted who were upon watch, — the crew and passen- 
gers of the packet were aroused by the announcement 
that a strange vessel was in sight, that all hands must 
be armed, and preparations for defence made. Mrs. 
Southey was unfortunately ill, and removed accordingly 
to the cockpit, where she might remain in greater secu- 
rity than in the cabin. Whilst every precaution was 
being taken, and grape-shot, bar- shot, and the other 
ingenious implements of war, were got into order, the 
cutter approached so close that the smoke from her 
matches could easily be distinguished, and every one on 
board expected an immediate engagement. The hurry 
of the scene dispelled reflection. When the stranger 
was within hearing — an awkward proximity — she was ■ 
hailed. A reply in broken English appeared satisfac- 
tory to some, questionable to others. "Tis all over, 
now ! " exclaimed one, feeling his breathing relieved at 
the sound of his native tongue. " Not so ! " replied the 
captain, observing the cutter making round for another 
vessel that was accompanying them. There were, how- 
ever, no further hostile demonstrations, and when they 
were alongside it was found that the cutter was Eng- 



APPROACH TO THE TAGUS. 91 

lish, but manned from Guernsey, which accounted for 
their Frenchified language. Although Southey felt more 
pleasure in laying his musket back again into the chest 
than he did in taking it out, he confesses he was glad 
to have had the opportunity of experiencing what it is 
to prepare for action. 

Early on the Wednesday morning the Berlings were 
visible, and behind them the rising sun, which seemed, 
as it were, to rest upon them for a moment, and illumi- 
nate their bold crests, before it burst forth in unin- 
terrupted glory upon the whole expanse of land and 
water. A fresh breeze carried them past Mafra and the 
heights of C intra, and the silver spray of the breakers 
could be seen as they dashed against the rocky shore. 
The town of Oascaes being passed, they proceeded up 
the Tagus towards the city of Lisbon. 

Southey describes his impressions in glowing lan- 
guage. The convents, the quintas, the grey olive-yards, 
the green orange-groves, and greener vineyards, the 
increasing populousness of the shore, the fine buildings 
multiplying, the bright river reflecting the blue sky, 
the swarms of boats w T ith all variety of sail, the ships 
riding at anchor, the city clothing the slopes of the 
hills ; all these elements of the scene, although he was 
already familiar with them in detail, struck upon his 
imagination with bold beauty. 

There is, indeed, always a pleasure in welcoming 
scenes we have before visited, and which have become 



92 A POKTUGUESE KESIDENCE. 

sacred by association. Upon his return to Lisbon, 
after an absence of four years, Soutbey found every- 
thing reappear with the fascination of novelty. The 
city, its towers, its convents, its squares, its waters, its 
inhabitants, its customs, its dress, its amusements, all 
seemed fresh ; and the hills beyond the Tagus, blue in 
the azure mist and distance, and the heights behind 
the town, beautiful in feature and rich in vegetation, 
came back upon him with renewed charms. On landing 
he took possession of his house, which was small, but 
thoroughly Portuguese, with little rooms, all doors and 
windows, calculated for coolness. It commanded a 
magnificent view over the river on one side, and the 
Almida hills on the other. Before he could become 
settled visitors began to pour in upon him, and in the 
tediousness of returning these civil ceremonies he 
looked forward to a frightful waste of time. However, 
having arranged his rooms, and discharged the claims 
of etiquette, he retired into himself, to pursue his studies 
as uninterruptedly as the calls of society would permit. 
" Thalaba," now nearly finished, occupied a portion cf 
his time; "Madoc" was to take its place when com- 
pleted: but the "History of Portugal" engrossed his 
principal hours. In writing to Coleridge he describes 
the plan he had laid down of study. He determined to 
go through the chronicles at once, in regular order, ard 
construct a skeleton of the narrative. Afterwards it 
would be time to put in the flesh and muscles. 



LISBON AND ITS GOVERNMENT. 93 

The same picture of uncleanliness that met his eye 
at Coruna, and the other towns of Spain he passed 
through during his first tour, presented itself in Portu- 
gal. Lisbon has twice been clean since the creation : 
"Noah's flood cleansed it once, and the fire after the 
earthquake purified it," is the facetious language Southey 
uses to convince his friends of the want of sanitary 
reforms in that otherwise delightful city. 

Few can imagine the supineness of the government 
of that time. Whilst they w T ere too negligent or idle to 
do anything themselves in the way of improvement, 
they took care that nothing should be done by others. 
An Englishman applied for permission, whilst Southey 
was resident in Lisbon, to cleanse the street in which 
he lived : it was denied him. Another wealthy indi- 
vidual, an invalid, was anxious to have the road over 
which his carriage passed paved, to prevent the jolting 
which accompanied his taking the air. On application 
to the proper officers, he found that same jealousy of 
innovation. 

A government so languid and defective at once 
suggests the social condition of the inhabitants ; nor 
shall we be surprised to find life and property insecure 
under such a feeble administration. It is a point of 
honour, that if a man stab another in the street no 
information shall be given to the police ; the murderer 
is, therefore, allowed to escape. If a servant should 
rob his master, his fellow-labourers are forbidden, by 



94 THE GREAT POMBAL. 

the same rule, to reveal his guilt. Every individual 
is at the mercy of the first ruffian he meets, and no 
notice taken of it. " A man was murdered this week 
within twenty yards of our house," writes South ey, 
" and we only heard it ten days afterwards by mere 
accident ; yet all goes on smoothly, as the Tagus flows 
over the dead bodies that are thrown into it." Another 
anecdote will illustrate the personal insecurity in this 
kingdom. A Porto merchant had a quarrel with a 
Portuguese, and in consequence both always went out 
armed with guns, and watched for the opportunity of 
firing first. At last the patience of the Portuguese 
being exhausted, he fired the house of the merchant at 
night, and shot into it through the windows, hoping to 
kill him. This drove the merchant fairly out of the 
town. " The gallows here has a stationary ladder," 
observes Southey; "and, God knows, if the hangman 
did all that was necessary, he would have a hard place." 
But anarchy had reached such a point that prudence 
kept men silent; and the fear of secret assassination 
established a custom, or etiquette, that rendered the 
people the impotent spectators and passive accomplices 
of the greatest of crimes. 

Squalid poverty and degrading idleness charac- 
terised the multitudes of Lisbon. Negroes performed 
the lowest domestic offices ; and although by a law of 
the great Pombal their importation is forbidden, their 
descendants were kept in a state of abject servitude, 



SUPERSTITION AND POVERTY. 95 

and treated with great rigour and contempt. When age 
has deprived them of the power of being any longer 
serviceable to their masters, they are turned adrift into 
the streets, grey-headed, and emaciated with fatigue and 
deprivation, to support the remaining fragment of life 
on the precarious chances of charity. To this class 
of pitiable suppliants, may be added the begging friars, 
who infest the highways and bye ways of a Portuguese 
town ; and, without any claims to our sympathy, aliens 
from nature, and nurtured only by a superstitious 
reverence for a perverted faith, they crowd the 
thoroughfares, arrest the steps of the passenger with 
their cries for alms, and institute a system of idleness 
destructive of social order and moral improvement. 
Sometimes a charity-school is set up on speculation, the 
object being gold instead of knowledge. The pupils of 
this academy are sent forth by their master with a 
basket, to supplicate for money or provisions, and in 
the name of religion it is given. Sometimes the pro- 
gress of the passenger is interrupted by the processions 
of priests and monks, who, daring certain months of 
the year, keep up a ceaseless saturnalia ; the festivals 
which accompany the ceremonies of the " Emperor of 
the Holy Ghost," the " Body of God and St. Anthony," 
&c, being scenes of the most flagrant licentiousness. 
These absurd and blasphemous ceremonies disgusted 
Southey with the character of the Church of Rome. 
The nature of his studies had also directed his atten- 



96 A LANDSCAPE. 

tion to the history of their doctrines, to the lives and 
pretensions of their saints, and to the influence of their 
worship. To one whose eyes are open, the gross and 
unblushing violation of every law, human and divine, 
can so clearly be brought home to that church, that it 
is no wonder Southey felt then, and continued to feel 
to the end of his life, that no quarter should be given 
to a community holding such principles of duplicity ; 
whose avowed faith is aggression, w r hose presumption 
absolves men from the guilt attached to the worst 
crimes, whose spirit is intolerant, and whose reign 
has been the triumph of the most abject and cruel 
tyranny. 

During the summer Southey retired with his uncle 
to the cool and refreshing hills of Cintra, a town of 
small dimensions, consisting of a palace, a plaza or 
square, and a number of narrow, crooked streets, wind- 
ing down the sides. Behind rose the Rock of Lisbon, — 
as it is termed by the sailors from the sea, or as it is 
designated by the inhabitants, the Mountain of Cintra, 
— broken into a number of pyramidal summits of rock 
piled upon rock, some covered with verdure, some 
ruggedly barren. On one hand stood the Penha con- 
vent, on the other the ruins of a Moorish castle. The 
road which ascended these heights formed a beautiful 
terrace, commanding a splendid and boundless prospect. 
The stony summits of the hills were succeeded by 
slopes, growing gradually more green and luxuriant as 



A POKTUGUESE ABSUKD1TT. 97 

they descended to the valley. The wild heath, with its 
purple blossom, clothed the open downs in a mantle of 
sapphire; whilst orange-groves, lemon-gardens, olive- 
plantations, and cork-trees, with the light clustering 
vine pendent from their branches, all bathed in the 
cloudless sunshine of the South, gave a lively and in- 
tense splendour to the beauty of the scene. 

Southey found the conveniences of Cintra superior 
to what he had expected ; yet here, occasionally, the 
absurdities of the government interfered with the com- 
forts of the British residents. On one occasion in par- 
ticular an order was issued that no Englishman should 
be served in the market until the Portuguese had 
been satisfied. This carried its own remedy. The 
foreigners were the chief supporters of the market, and 
the rule was obliged to be withdrawn. The English 
are always liberal, and this is soon discovered. Portu- 
guese women seek out English families for service, as 
they obtain better wages, and because a Portuguese 
mistress feels herself bound to lock them up when she 
goes out, to prevent their intriguing with the men.* 

In the February of 1801, Southey, his friend Mr. 
Waterhouse, and four ladies, commenced a circuitous 
excursion through the interior of the country, by San- 
tarem and Torres Vedras. The accommodations on the 

* The same precautions are taken by Levantine ladies in 
Egypt. See Mr. Bayle St. John's " Two Years' Residence in a 
Levantine Family." 

II 



98 MODERN MIRACLES. 

road and at the inns at which they. stopped were singu- 
larly, often ridiculously, inconvenient; hut the beauty 
of the scenery and the interesting objects which different 
towns afforded sufficiently kept up the excitement and 
pleasure of the journey, and made amends in some 
degree for the discomforts which they experienced. At 
Pombal they saw Our Lady's oven, where annually a 
fire is kindled, a wafer baked, and a man, the Shadrach 
of the town, walks round the glowing furnace coming 
out unhurt and unsinged, by a special miracle of Our 
Lady of Carclal. At Thomar is a statue of St. Christo- 
pher on the bridge ; three grains of its legs, taken in a 
glass of water, are a sovereign cure for the ague — and 
poor St. Christopher's supporters are almost worn out by 
the extent of the practice. Torres Vedras is the place 
where Father Anthony of the Wounds died, — a man sus- 
pected of sanctity. On one occasion the pious mob 
attacked his body, stripped it naked, cut off all his hair, 
and tore up his nails to keep for relics. Before South ey 
had proceeded far upon his journey, he was more than 
ever disgusted with the vile system of relics, images, and 
saintships, that kept alive the fires of superstition. In 
no country in the world are saints so numerous. One 
protects from a storm, another from fire, a third from 
the palsy, a fourth clears the clouds, and so on ad infi- 
nitum, where human infirmities bespeak the necessity 
of a superior and interposing power. A system for an 
enthusiast who can drown his reason and keep his feel- 



RETURN TO ENGLAND. 99 

ings alive. It is only by tracing the conduct of this 
religion in its native seats that we can arrive at its real 
features ; and in Southey 's writings we have ample pic- 
tures to enable us to judge of its true and unchanged 
nature. 

On his return to Lisbon, Southey began to contem- 
plate again visiting England. The state of the Conti- 
nent made the residence of the English in Portugal 
insecure, and many, to avoid expulsion and the loss of 
their property, had resolved to seek safety in their na- 
tive land. Southey, though reluctant to leave the 
beautiful sun and the magnificent scenery of Cintra, 
was still eager to join the homeward voyagers. His 
love of his native country, though damped by the anti- 
cipation of English taxes, English climate, and stale 
beer — his desire to see old faces and renew old friend- 
ships — rendered his return in every respect a pleasure- 
able idea. 



100 LITEEAKY CONNEXIONS. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Keturn to England — Mr. Drummond — Keswick — Coleridge and 
Wordsworth — Cumberland Scenery — Secretaryship to the 
Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ireland — Celebrated 
Characters — Death of his Mother — Chatterton's Sister 
— Sir Herbert Croft — Birth of a Daughter — House-hunting 
— Literature. 

^tat. 27-29. 

Southey, having completed his arrangements, returned 
to England and took up his residence once more at 
Bristol. He found that many changes had been 
wrought during his absence. His intimate friend 
Davy, who was for him one of its chief attractions, 
had left for the more ambitious circles of the metro- 
polis ; and many faces he expected would have welcomed 
him back, had disappeared altogether from the theatre 
of life. 

His first object was to renew his connexions with 
the publishers ; and in this he was so successful, that 
within a short time his hands were as fully employed 
as ever. He had not, however, changed his opinions 



COLERIDGE AND WORDSWORTH. 101 

with respect to literary labour as a means of sup- 
port, and now only regarded his resumption of it as 
temporary. By the exertions of his friend Wynn, a 
prospect of obtaining the office of secretary to Mr. 
Drummond, who was about to proceed as ambassador, 
first to Palermo and afterwards to the Ottoman Porte, 
was opened to him. This would have been a post 
peculiarly grateful to his temperament. The easy 
duties it entailed, the fixed salary which it afforded, 
though small, and the leisure it would give him to pro- 
ceed with that which now constituted the great object 
of his thoughts — the History of Portugal— -pointed it 
out as a situation peculiarly adapted for him. His 
residence abroad in the genial atmosphere of the South 
had created a discontent with English scenery, climate, 
and habits ; and in his letters of this date he constantly 
disparages the natural beauties of his own country, by 
the unfavourable comparison he draws between it and 
the scenery around Lisbon. His friend, however, was 
not successful in his endeavours, and this was one more 
added to the list of disappointments which Southey in 
the course of his long life had to experience. 

Coleridge was at this time residing at Greta Hall, 
near Keswick. In the neighbourhood Wordsworth was 
also living ; and though the hills of this mountainous 
district intervened and interrupted their intercourse in 
winter, in summer a ramble across them was always 
delightful, and repaid by the hearty welcome and hos~ 



102 SOUTHEY AT KESWICK. 

pitality with which the two poets greeted each other. 
An invitation from Coleridge to Southey induced him 
to take a trip with his wife down to Cumberland, which 
was protracted to a stay during the fall of the year. 

With the scenery of the lakes Southey was at first 
disappointed. The reality fell short of that picture 
which he had sketched out in his own imagination, and 
the grandeur and the beauty of Skiddaw and Derwent- 
water " paled" before the images of his own invention. 
They lost, too, in the contrast, vivid in his own mind, 
of the warmer landscapes of Spain and Portugal. At 
length, however, the lakes expanded, the mountains 
enlarged themselves, and the whole scenery became 
more beautiful as he became more familiar with it. 
The effect grew upon him. The more he contem- 
plated the picture, the more its peculiar features were 
brought out by an enthusiastic study of them ; the more 
he became associated with them in heart and feeling, 
the more did their beauty become developed. 

From Keswick, Southey diverged upon a visit to 
Mr. Wynn at Llauyedwin, the seat of that gentleman 
in Wales. Whilst here, he was informed that the secre- 
taryship to the Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ireland 
had become vacant, and an offer of the situation for 
himself arrived by the same post from his friend John 
Eickman, at that time residing in Dublin. The salary 
was 350Z. per annum, and the work light. Southey at 
once accepted the post, and returning for a few days to 



THE WORLD AND FORTUNE. 103 

Cumberland, lost no time in taking possession of his 
appointment. 

On his arrival in the Irish capital he found that 
Mr. Corry, the chancellor, was absent in the country. 
This gave him what he calls a few days of " purport-less 
idleness." It enabled him, however, to make many 
necessary preparations, to examine the principal parts 
of the city, and to learn something of the person whose 
secretary he was to be. "I like his character," he 
writes;* "he does business well and with method, but 
loves amusement better than business, and books better 
than official papers." 

After a short sojourn in Dublin, the duties of his 
office called Mr. Corry, for the winter season, to Lon- 
don, whither his secretary followed him, having made a 
hurried journey to Keswick to see Mrs. Southey. When 
returned to the metropolis, he was overwhelmed with 
the congratulations of his friends upon his recent ap- 
pointment. Others, who had formerly taken, no notice 
of him, were now among the foremost to hold out the 
right hand of fellowship, and welcome him with smiles 
of courtesy and respect. Neglect or coldness vanished 
in the sunshine of his fortune ; and had he measured 
his friendships by the multitude of his professed ad- 
mirers, he might have considered himself the happiest 
of earth's sons. But such conduct to one who inquired 

* Letter to Mrs. Southey, Oct. 1801. 



104 OFFICIAL DUTIES. 

deeply into human nature appeared contemptible, and 
made him think more despicably (such is his own ex- 
pression) **■ of mankind than he could wish to do. " As 
if this were a baptism that purified me from all my sins 
— a regeneration ; and the one congratulates me, and 
the other visits me, as if the author of * Joan of Arc ' 
and ' Thalaba " were made a greater man by scribbling 
for the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer ! However, 
by these symptoms," he adds, " I suppose my situation 
to be a good one." 

The duties Southey had to perform are humorously 
described in a letter to his friend John Bickman, and 
consisted chiefly in making out a catalogue of books 
published since '97, on finance and scarcity; or in 
reading up the questions of the corn-laws, finance, and 
tithes : all which appears to have been light work. He 
did not, however, escape the satirical raillery to which 
public men and public officers are frequently exposed ; 
and the popular journals of the day expressed a hope 
that the poet would make no false numbers in his new 
work, besides similar innuendoes and political bantering. 

A new year had opened upon him, but its dawn was 
overcast by the clouds of affliction. On the 5th of 
January, his mother, who had joined him on his return 
from Ireland, and had been for some time in a declining 
state, expired. This, with the exception, perhaps, of 

* Letter to Mr. Taylor of Norwich, November 1801. 



DEATH OF SOUTHEY's MOTHER. 105 

the loss of his friend Edmund Seward, was the first 
sorrow he was doomed to know. In his earlier years he 
had experienced less of maternal care than most child- 
ren of his class and station. But since his father's 
death he had contributed chiefly, if not altogether, to 
her support, and the piety and affection of a son seemed 
to thrive still stronger by its late maturity. Indeed, 
although he felt that he had been a source of much 
consolation to her, he discovered not until she was 
removed how deeply rooted his affection had sunk, or 
how dear a pang the separation would cost. She ap- 
pears to have been a woman of most gentle and amiable 
disposition, too easily swayed by her imperious half- 
sister (the disparity of their ages may offer some ex- 
cuse), and evincing great tenderness towards her child- 
ren. She was only in her fiftieth year. 

The next few months passed away in the discharge 
of his official duties, which were more nominal than 
real. His life is described at this period > as undi- 
versified by any other than the ordinary occurrence of a 
friend dropping in to-day and another to-morrow. Yet 
we have occasionally an announcement of " the growth 
of his history satisfying him;" by which we are led to 
infer that he was busy during his leisure hours upon it. 
Whilst still labouring under the depression of spirits 
caused by his mother's death, he determined upon a 
journey to Norwich, to visit Mr. William Taylor. 

His mind was, however, unsettled. There were 



106 RESIGNATION OF OFFICE. 

many inconveniences attached to his new office which 
now began to make themselves felt. His heart yearned 
for domestic ease. The comfort of his own hearth was 
often sighed for. The constant change of place which 
his new office involved was unsuited to his tastes and 
former habits. In this mood he reflected upon the 
advantages and disadvantages of his post, and was 
balancing them in his mind, when Mr. Corry, it seems, 
thinking his time not sufficiently employed by the work 
he was enabled to supply him with, proposed to him 
the education of his sons ; but as this was not " in the 
bond," nor were his habits or inclinations adapted to 
such a responsibility, Southey declined the task, and 
shortly afterwards resigned his situation. 

He now took up his abode once more at Bristol, 
and was soon deeply immersed in writing for the pub- 
lishers. His " History of Portugal," also, engaged a 
considerable portion of his time. He also contracted 
with Messrs. Longman and Co. for the translation of 
" Amadis of Gaul," for which he was to receive 60Z., 
with a prospect of 40L, and then 30Z. more at future 
intervals, if the sale were favourable. 

Amongst the many amiable features of Southey 's 
character, none was more prominent than his willingness 
to relieve, in whatever shape it appeared, to the utmost 
of his power. This disposition will frequently be ex- 
emplified in the following pages ; but we have an in- 
stance now to relate which, whilst it exhibits his private 



SIK H. CKOFT AND MKS. NEWTON. 107 

generosity, indicates his public sympathy. The sister 
and niece of the unfortunate Chatterton were in a state 
of extreme destitution, whilst the publishers of his 
works were reaping large and increasing profit from 
their sale. Feeling for the suffering relatives of the 
poet, and blushing for the disgrace that attached itself* 
to his ungrateful country, which, whilst it rewarded and 
adored with a hero-worship the mighty slaughterers of 
mankind, allowed the kindred of him who adorned and 
benefited, not his own land alone, but the intelligence 
of the world, to languish in obscurity and want, — he 
determined to edit the whole of his works ; and as there 
were aggravated cases of injustice towards this poor 
family, to lay them before the public for their benefit. 
This w r as purely a labour of love, and in it he was 
kindly assisted by Mr. Cottle. 

Sir Herbert Croft, it appears, had obtained pos- 
session of the letters and MSS. of Chatterton from his 
sister, Mrs. Newton, on the condition of speedily re- 
turning them. They were, however, surreptitiously 
printed, and the only redress Mrs. Newton could obtain 
was a 101. note. These facts Southey found means of 
introducing into the pages of the monthly magazines, 
and held up to the indignation of the country the con- 
duct of Sir H. Croft. The result was a handsome 
subscription ; and by the sale of the w r orks edited by 
Southey, a sum of 30(W. w T as handed over to the sister 
and niece. 



108 THE BIETH OF A FIEST CHILD. 

In the September of this year, his first child (to 
whom he gave, in memory of her grandmother, the 
name of Margaret,) was born. This was an event 
ardently wished for and joyfully welcomed. It operated 
still more strongly upon his domestic feelings, and 
suggested the propriety of his settling in a permanent 
abode. Since his return from Portugal he had been 
wandering from one house to another, from this friend 
to that friend ; and he had only selected Bristol as a 
temporary place of residence. A desire to be near 
London, the great centre of business, inclined him to 
regard Richmond as an eligible spot ; but fearing that 
it was not sufficiently retired, and that its proximity to 
the metropolis might expose him to the interruption of 
frequent visitors, he determined to select a more distant 
home. Accordingly, he entered into negotiations for a 
house in the Vale of Neath, in Glamorganshire, one of 
the loveliest spots in Great Britain. Amongst the objects 
which he proposed to himself in choosing Wales for a 
place of residence, was the facility it might afford him 
of acquiring the Welsh language, which he was very 
desirous to learn. A disagreement, however, arising 
between himself and the landlord, upon some necessary 
improvements, the negotiations were broken off, and an 
idea that had for some time filled his mind with the 
most pleasurable anticipations remained unrealised. 

He was, however, indefatigable in his literary la- 
bours, although a weakness in his eyes, which he feared 



A MELANCHOLY APPEEHENSION. 109 

niiglit terminate seriously, occasionally checked the 
energy of his natural enthusiasm. Longman and 
Hamilton were requiring his prose, whilst an engage- 
ment for supplying the " Morning Post " with a regular 
string of verses was still pending. Yet he found his 
chief amusement in heing employed in literature, and 
his only regret was that the kind was not of his own 
choosing. Reviewing he always disliked ; but had his 
path lain through old chronicles, and he himself al- 
lowed to compose from a full head at leisure, he would, 
he tells us, have aspired to no higher happiness. 



1-10 LOVE OF THE PAST. 



CHAPTER X. 

Fondness for the Past— The " Bibliotheca Britannica"— Death 
of his Daughter — Besides at Keswick — His Character — 
Literature — " Madoc" — Specimens of the Modern English 
Poets— Thoughts of visiting Portugal— Visit to Scotland 
— Edinburgh — Ashestiel — Walter Scott — Jeffrey and 
Brougham — Criticism and Reviews. 

^Etat. 29-32. 

In his letters to his most intimate friends Southey 
poured forth his whole undisguised heart, expressed the 
fulness of his feelings, and told his hopes and disap- 
pointments with unrestricted confidence. It is in these 
that w r e trace the true features of his character, that we 
are enabled to arrive at the fountain-head of his senti- 
ments, and pursue the course and current of his 
opinions. A lingering fondness for the past, for what- 
ever wore the impress or assumed the air of the antique, 
had peculiar charms for his fancy, and not unfrequently 
fascinated and overruled his better judgment. " I 
love," he writes to a friend,* " old houses best, for the 
sake of odd closets, and cupboards, and good thick 

* Letter to Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq. April 1803. 



A NEW WORK. Ill 

walls that do not let the wind blow in ; and little out- 
of-the-way polyangular rooms, with great beams running 
across the ceiling — old heart of oak that has outlasted 
half-a-score of generations ; and chirnneypieces with 
the date of the year carved above them ; and huge fire- 
places that warmed the shins of Englishmen before the 
House of Hanover came over. The most delightful 
associations that ever made me feel, and think, and fall 
a-dreaming, are excited by old buildings ; not absolute 

ruins, but in a state of decline In truth, I am 

more disposed to connect myself by sympathy with the 
ages that are past, and by hope with those that are 
to come, than to vex and irritate myself by any lively 
interest about the existing generations." The type and 
the antitype, the symbol and " the thing signified," 
are easily confounded in a mind so constituted ; nor 
should we be surprised to find that one who so fondly 
cherished old feudal and despotic relics should insen- 
sibly be averse to change and reformation in the civil 
and religious institutions of his own country. 

In the July of 1803 Southey was again in London. 
The object of this present visit was to negotiate with 
Messrs. Longman and Co. the publication, on a very 
extensive scale, of a history of British literature. The 
work was to be bibliographical, biographical, and critical, 
and entitled the " Bibliotheca Britannica." One por- 
tion was to be devoted to the pure and native pro- 
ductions of the Welsh writers ; another to include 



112 ASSOCIATES IN THE WOBK. 

English poets and poetry, and prose really poetical, 
consisting of such great names as have either formed 
epochs in our taste, or such, at least, as are representa- 
tions. A third would be dedicated to English prose, 
considered as to style, as to eloquence, as to general 
impressiveness ; a history of style and manners, their 
causes s their birthplaces, their parentage, their analysis.* 
A fourth would contain an account of metaphysics, 
theology, medicine, alchemy, law, and ethics, from 
Alfred to the present day. Another would embrace 
articles on all the separate arts and sciences that have 
been treated of in books since the Reformation. All 
these subjects were to be arranged chronologically, and 
the distribution of the whole — in fact, the entire editing 
this encyclopaedia, was to be intrusted to Southey. Of 
those who were to be associates in this great literary 
undertaking, the chief were, the well-known Anglo- 
Saxon historiographer Sharon Turner, Messrs. Rick- 
man, Taylor (of Norwich), Duppa, and Coleridge, — men 
with whom he was well acquainted, and upon whose co- 
operation in such a work he could confidently depend. 
The universal panic which seized the nation at this 
time, however, affected also the interests of literature. 
The publishers were reluctant to risk their capitals 
on so extensive an undertaking, and deemed it 
prudent to wait until a more favourable change had 

* Letter of Coleridge to Southey : " Life and Corre- 
spondence of Southey," vol. ii. p. 218. 



CHARACTER OF SOUTHEY. 113 

taken place in the trade of the country. This post- 
ponement proved fatal to the work. 

The death of his infant daughter, which took place 
about this time, overshadowed for a while the happiness 
of Southey. So severely did he feel the loss, that he was 
eager to quit Bristol ; and that city, which had been to 
him the scene of so many enjoyments, now seemed the 
centre of gloom and affliction, and haunted with the 
presence of his child. He accordingly hastened down 
to Keswick, where he once more joined the domestic 
circle of Coleridge. " I was glad to hear from you," he 
writes to his brother, Lieutenant Southey: "a first 
letter after such a loss is expected with some sort of 
fear ; it is like pulling off the bandage that has been 
put upon a green wound." Such is the forcible ex- 
pression by which he reveals how painful the reference 
to his lost daughter still was. 

The scenery of Cumberland now took a strong hold 
upon his imagination. Beauties which were slow in 
revealing themselves before, now thickeued upon him. 
As Portugal receded from his memory, Keswick grew 
upon his affections. k< Would you could see these 
lakes and mountains," he writes, shortly after his 
arrival; " how wonderful they are! how awful in their 
beauty ! " He was now thirty years of age, of a light 
and cheerful disposition, but keenly sensitive to the 
influences of external nature, which gave to his thoughts 
a sombre colouring — a colouring that often attends 



114 NATURAL CHEERFULNESS. 

upon intensity of feeling and reflection, and indicates 
rather a calmness of spirit than a gloominess of charac- 
ter. Yet he carried not these feelings into society, nor 
even into the circle of his family and friends. The sun- 
shine of his humour cast a light ahout his presence ; he 
was ever more ready to excite mirth and merriment 
than to extinguish it : in his ordinary intercourse with 
the world he was warm and generous ; kindness and 
affection marked his conduct towards those he loved. 
A dimness of sight occasionally warned him of the possi- 
bility (we cannot bring ourselves to believe in the pro- 
bability of misfortune) that he might altogether lose it. 
But he relaxed not his diligence ; he rather laboured 
the more abundantly, whilst the power was given him, 
that he might have more food for reflection should the 
night overtake him. 

The History was progressing favourably, and "Ma- 
doc" in preparation for the press, which Southey hoped to 
bring it out by subscription. He was anxious to devote 
as much leisure as he could spare to the furtherance of 
his great work. But the necessities of home interfered, 
and he was compelled to devote much time to periodical 
writing. This divided attention was injurious to him 
in a pecuniary point of view, — for had he regarded 
" pen-and-inkmanship " as a trade, and had he been 
willing to give himself up to writing short articles and 
reviews, the only branch that was remunerative, he 
might have gained double the amount he did. 



"MADOC." 115 

" I have more in hand than Buonaparte or Marquis 
Wellesley,"* he thus facetiously describes his engage- 
ments, — " digesting Gothic law, gleaning moral history 
from monkish legends, and conquering India with 
Albuquerque ; filling up the chinks of the day by hunt- 
ing in Jesuit chronicles and compiling * Collectanea 
Hispanica et Gothica.' Meantime, ' Madoc' sleeps, 
and my love of gain. Compilation f goes on at night, 
when I am fairly obliged to lay history aside, because it 
perplexes me in my dreams. Tis a vile thing to be 
pestered in sleep with all the books I have been reading 
in the day jostled together." 

A short journey to London, to superintend the pub- 
lication of one of his works now ready to issue from the 
press, interrupted for a while the even tenor of his duties. 
" Amadis de Gaul," a translation from the Spanish, 
had already appeared ; and " Madoc," a poem founded 
upon a legend of a Welsh emigration to Mexico before 
the discovery of America by Columbus, was now placed 
in the hands of Messrs. Ballantyne and Co. Consider- 
ing its ponderous size — it was a quarto — this was one 
of the most favourably received of Southey's larger 
poems, nearly one-half the edition being sold in little 
more than a month. After its appearance, however, he 
regretted that it was of such formidable dimensions, 
instead of a more agreeable and readable shape. Its 

* Letter to J. Hickman, March 1804=. 
t Specimens of the English Poets. 



] ] 6 SPECIMENS OF ENGLISH POETS. 

high price, he was willing to believe, condemned one-half 
the edition to be unheeded in large libraries, and the other 
to be regarded as lumber in the gloomy recesses of the 
publishers' warehouse. By this time, so assiduous was 
he, that his " Specimens of the later English Poets," for 
the collection and arrangement of which he had engaged 
with Messrs. Longman and Co. shortly before, was so 
far completed as to be ready for the printer's hand. It 
embraced all those who had died from 1685 to 1800. 
He was also engaged in a corrected republication of his 
best pieces from the " Anthology," and anxious to enter 
upon an edition of the works of Sir Philip Sidney. 

His great work, however, and that which filled his 
principal thoughts, for which he read the most exten- 
sively, collated the most elaborately, and over which he 
pondered the most studiously, was his " History of 
Portugal." It is true, that he devoted but such time as 
he could spare from more immediately important labours, 
but his progress was not slow. If his other subjects 
were engaged in con amove — and he confesses, however 
distasteful a subject might be at first, it grew upon him 
until he wrote with his whole heart — this was truly a 
labour of love. He had exhausted the materials that 
lay at his command in England, and anxiously looked 
forward to again visiting those kingdoms whose annals 
he was elucidating. The soft and genial climate of the 
South invoked, with many a recollection, his spirit to a 
return, and frequently the spell was strong upon him. 



HOPE AND DISAPPOINTMENT. 117 

Whilst, on the one hand, he placed the society, con- 
nexions, and all the associations which the name of one's 
own country raise up; on the other hand he remem- 
bered the delightful sensation — the perfect exhilaration 
of the animal spirits — which he enjoyed in the cool 
groves of Cintra. He remembered the pleasure that is 
excited in those sunny climes by the mere act of breath- 
ing, and, in addition to those incentives, the beauty of 
the scenery of the Tagus, the Siena de Ossa, and 
Coimbra, came upon him with powerful effect. 

So fully expectant was Southey of being able to put 
this wish into execution, that he regarded his residence 
at Keswick as only temporary. Coleridge had left some 
time before, and gone to the Mediterranean. Southey, 
seeking a settled habitation, had taken it off his hands ; 
but now an immediate prospect of leaving England 
seemed to open upon him. The Government — it ap- 
pears he gathered his information from the newspapers 
— was about to prepare an expedition for Lisbon, and 
the office of Inspector of Accounts had not yet been 
filled up. As this was a civil post, and the obtainment 
of it might serve him in collecting further materials for 
his history, Southey determined to apply for it: and his 
friend Grosvenor Bedford exerted his influence with the 
authorities of the Admiralty. The scheme was, how- 
ever, ultimately abandoned. 

During the autumn of this year (] 805) Southey laid 
aside his pen and books, and in company with his friend, 



118 VISIT TO SCOTLAND. 

the Eev. Peter Elmsley (afterwards Principal of St. 
Alban's Hall, Oxford), made a tour to Edinburgh. After 
having visited the Castle, and other venerable and ro- 
mantic spots in this modern Athens, he proceeded, a 
pilgrim of the Muses, to Ashes tiel. There he was re- 
ceived with great warmth and cordiality by Walter 
Scott, who was always remarkable for his spirit of hospi- 
tality. With him he remained a few days. There can be 
imagined no pleasure greater than the occasional reunion 
of two highly intellectual minds, the current of whose 
feelings and thoughts flowed in the same direction. 
With Sir Walter, Southeyheld many things in common. 
Their tastes, their pursuits, were frequently similar. 
Legendary tales, eccentric romances, antiquated novelets 
and quaint poems, possessed especial charms for each ; 
and in their political opinions there was little diversity, 
whilst their hearts were open and liberal to the claims 
and offices of friendship. Hence we are not surprised 
that this visit was the source of great mutual pleasure, 
and cemented more strongly the bond of that intimacy 
which had already existed for some time. 

In Edinburgh, Southey was thrown into the company 
of the well-known editor and critic, Jeffrey, and of Henry 
Brougham. Their intimate connexion with the " Edin- 
burgh Review," and the severity of the strictures which 
had appeared upon his poems, and which were generally 
understood to be from the pen of the former, prevented 
the meeting from being very cordial. In his letters 



OPINION OF SCOTLAND. 119 

Southey expresses, in unequivocal terms, the feelings 
with -which he greeted them, and the contempt he enter- 
tained for their superficial knowledge. The further re- 
sult of this journey may be summed up in his own cha- 
racteristic words :* " 1 am returned with much pleasant 
matter for remembrance ; well pleased with Walter Scott 
— with Johnny Armstrong's castle on the Esk — with 
pleasant Teviotdale — with the Tweed and the Yarrow — 
astonished at Edinburgh — delighted w T ith Melrose — sick 
of Presbyterianism, and, above all things, thankful that 
I am an Englishman and not a Scotchman." 

Southey and the critics — we may almost say, the 
whole press — during a great portion of his life, were at 
variance. The conceits and affectations of style which 
he introduced into his poems incurred their severe 
reprobation, and the political views he subsequently 
enunciated were too little in accordance with the feelings 
and opinions of the public writers of the times to allow r 
them to be expressed without the bitterest comments. 
The influence they were known to carry with them still 
further inflamed the severity of his opponents. Hence 
he altogether eschewed their judgment, and affected a 
total disregard and disrespect : it was the ces triplex 
of the practice of criticism. He ever maintained that 
reviewing was an immoral occupation, unless the re- 
viewer had as much knowledge as the writer upon wdiom 

* Letter to Grosvenor Bedford, Nov. 1805. 



120 ERROR AND CRITICISM. 

he sat iu judgment. This censure was doubtless pro- 
voked by the unfavourable reception " Madoc" had met 
with amongst the reviewers, whose power he is com- 
pelled to acknowledge in the depressed sale of his 
poems, and whose motives he most unjustly attacks. 
The praise he had for " Amadis," he attributed, not to 
the merit of the performance, but to the idea that a 
translation could excite no envy, whereas he presumed 
that those who were aspiring to be poets were jealous 
of his genius, and sought to detract from his reputation 
by maliciously criticising his poems. In such passages 
as these we perceive the prevailing fault of Southey's 
character, — an overweening estimation of his powers as 
a poet. 



A NEW LIFE. 121 



CHAPTER XI. 

Cumberland — The Lakers — Change of Ministry — Expectations 
— Death of his Uncle, John Southey — Pension — Literature 
— European Politics — History of Brazil — Kirke White — Lite 
rature — Letter to Grosvenor Bedford. 

^Etat. 32-34. 

In the last chapter, we left Southey desirous of quitting 
England ; in the present, we shall find him determinately 
fixed at Keswick. The fondness with which he became 
attached by association to the places he had made his 
home, acted upon his spirit with a centripetal force. 
The magnitude also of his library, the removal of which 
would now have been a formidable labour, became an- 
other and an increasing argument for his retention at 
the foot of Skiddaw. Cintra and its orange - groves, 
Portugal and his History, would frequently allure him to 
other shores ; but circumstances more potent than the 
fondest day-dreams continued to retain him at Keswick, 
and here he resided for the remainder of his long life. 
It must be confessed that this spot was in every way 



122 LOVE OF NATURE. 

a desirable residence for him. The grand and beautiful 
in nature were not only recreations for his mind — they 
were feasts upon which his imagination could feed. His 
heart was already attached to the scenery of Cumber- 
land : he loved its tall and rugged mountains ; he loved 
their deep shades and verdant valleys; he loved to 
gaze upon the waters of the picturesque Derwentwater 
spread out beneath him, of Bassenthwaite in the dis- 
tance, and on the verdure of their steep banks, visible 
as these objects were from the windows of his study. 
In the purple flush of morning — in the dazzling efful- 
gence of noon — in the golden radiance of evening, the 
soft halo of twilight, or the meek splendour of moonlight 
— by spring, by summer, by autumn, by winter, he 
might watch their changing beauties, and derive fresh 
inspiration from every glance. 

He was fond of retirement ; but this spirit rather 
defended him from the intrusion of injudicious com- 
panions, who might interrupt his time, to him all- 
valuable, than barred the avenues of his house against 
his friends. In the autumn, numerous visitors repair 
to the lake districts : it was at such times that Southey 
relaxed his assiduous labours. Indeed, had he been 
willing to continue them, the continual inroads made 
upon his application by persons bringing letters of intro- 
duction, or desirous of seeing a man whose literary re- 
putation was rising, would have rendered it impossible 
for him to have devoted himself seriously to his work. 



HOW TO VIEW A LANDSCAPE. 123 

But it was with him a source of the greatest gratifica- 
tion to receive those who came upon such occasions. 
Strangers from all parts of the world, poets, politicians, 
philosophers, and artists, were the guests of his hospi- 
tality ; and his enjoyment at such seasons was perfect, 
if an old and attached friend found his way to Keswick. 
He had begun to love his hills and his lakes, and it was 
with peculiar pride that he used to exhibit the grand 
natural beauties of Cumberland to their best advantage. 
A landscape depends much upon the point from which 
it is viewed, and even upon the light shed over it. 
Hence it is that travellers and tourists frequently fail 
to perceive those brilliant phases in a living picture 
which afford such exquisite delight to the inhabitants 
of the vicinity, and those conducted by well-informed 
guides. Southey was experienced in this. Having 
studied the characteristics of the mountains and valleys 
in his own neighbourhood, he was well fitted to counsel 
— which he did heartily — those who came to view and 
admire the beauties of the lake scenery. He advised 
them what path to pursue — what pass to gain — from 
what rock to expect the most expansive scene — in what 
valley the most charming nook — in what defile the most 
picturesque foss or waterfall, and from what point the 
most sublime prospect. On some occasions he would 
act as guide, and scramble up the rugged steeps of the 
hills ; at others, he joined parties of pleasure, and se- 
lecting an eligible spot, which was always recommended 



124 MODE OF LIFE. 

by its beauty, spent the day in the revels and exhilarating 
influence of a pic-nic. Into these scenes he would enter 
with all the buoyancy of youth, and with all the exube- 
rance of spirits of a child. He ever loved to see the 
faces of those around him redolent with happiness, and 
he strove to add mirth to their innocent sports. Eyes 
beaming with smiles and gladness usually attended him 
on such occasions, as it was his nature to infuse the light- 
ness of his own heart into the hearts of those who con- 
stituted the company ; and seldom was it the case that 
all did not participate equally in the joy which he endea- 
voured to diffuse. 

During the other seasons of the year his life was 
little varied. Each day brought with it the same rou- 
tine of duty, which was executed with undeviating 
assiduity. From breakfast until dinner-time he was to 
be found in his study, reading and taking notes, or 
writing. This time was particularly devoted to his 
correspondence, which of itself was no trifling occupa- 
tion. A walk from three to four, if the weather per- 
mitted, served the purposes of recreation and health. 
From dinner until tea the claims of publishers and 
reviewers kept his pen steadily and incessantly em- 
ployed, and from that time until it was the hour of rest 
he was engaged in light and familiar reading or conver- 
sation with his family. In his library a favourite cat — 
for Southey was fond of domestic animals — was his 
constant companion. This monotony was only broken 



A BOX OF BOOKS. 125 

by the arrival of a parcel of books, at which, time his 
spirits were quickened with intense delight. " Talk of 
the happiness of getting a great prize in the lottery !" 
he writes to Coleridge; " what is that to the opening a 
box of books ? The joy upon lifting up the cover must 
be something like that we shall feel when Peter the 
Porter opens the door and says, ' Please to walk in, 
sir/" Study was with Southey its own reward ; and in 
a multiplicity of literary engagements he found his 
most cherished happiness. " That I shall never be 
paid for my labour," continues this letter, " according 
to the current of time and labour, is tolerably certain ; 
but if any one should offer me 10,000£. to forego the 
labour, I should bid him go to the devil, for twice the 
sum could not purchase me half the enjoyment." 

There are few persons that have had such appa- 
rently favourable chances in the lottery of life, who 
have drawn so few prizes as Southey. Linked to a 
pursuit (periodical writing) from which he was con- 
stantly devising means of extricating himself — enjoying 
the intimate friendship of many closely connected with 
the Government, from whose voluntary exertions he was 
daily anticipating some permanent benefit — holding no 
unreasonable expectation of sharing in a property of a 
hundred thousand pounds, he was subject to perpetual 
disappointments. 

Upon the death of Pitt, when Fox and the Gren- 



126 ME. WYNN IN OFFICE. 

villes came into office, his friend Wynn obtained the 
post of Under-Secretary of State in the Home Office. 
Such was the attachment of this gentleman to Southey, 
that he not only allowed him an annuity, but had fre- 
quently, in conjunction with Mr. G. C. Bedford, used 
his influence in his behalf for vacant situations, though 
his kindness was usually defeated by their being in- 
compatible with his tastes and pursuits. It was natu- 
rally expected that his recent accession to power would 
give him a wider scope in which to serve his friend, as 
well as increased facilities ; whom he was willing to 
serve, not for the sake of friendship alone, but for the 
higher cause, the advancement of literature. He was 
sensible how great a service would be rendered to civi- 
lisation at large, were the " History of Portugal," em- 
bracing as it intended so large a portion of the history 
of the Papal Church, given to the world. Others enter- 
tained the same view, and amongst them Lord Holland 
was desirous that £uch a situation should be procured 
for *Southey as would enable him to proceed with his 
grand work, exempt from the harassing interruptions 
which necessarily were the result of dependence for his 
daily bread upon the daily exertions of his pen and 
brain. With this view, a secretaryship of legation, or 
the consulship at Lisbon, whichever became vacant 
first, was to be given to him. So high did his confi- 
dence rise upon the occasion, that, writing to his friend 



A NEW DISAPPOINTMENT. 127 

Duppa, he says, "My reviewing is this day* finished 
for ever and ever. Amen. Our fathers of the Kowf 
will, I dare say, wish me to continue at the employ- 
ment ; but I am weary of it. Seven years have I been, 
like Sir Bevis, preying upon ' rats and mice,' and such 
small deer, and for the future will fly at better game. 
It is best to choose my own subjects." The difficulty, 
however, of controlling such an appointment was quickly 
experienced, and writing and reviewing became again 
the necessary duty of his existence. 

Whilst this hope was pending, his uncle, the inhe- 
ritor of the Cannon estates, died, leaving the whole of 
it, two thousand excepted, which he disposed of in 
legacies, to his brother, a man of vulgar habits and a 
harsh disposition. Although Southey had expected a 
remembrance in the will of his late relative, he had a 
better right to look forward to a legacy at the death of 
the survivor ; yet such was the caprice of his temper, 
that, in a letter, Southey expresses it as his conviction 
that the property would be more probably left to his 
brother (Lieut. Southey) than to himself, for the name's 
sake ; but not that it would be left out of the family. 

The situations which would have best suited him to 
carry out his History were reserved for persons of more 
influence, and who had larger family connexions ; yet he 
was not without hopes that something would be found 

* Feb. 23, 1806. 

+ Messrs. Longman and Co. Paternoster Kow. 



128 A NEW HOPE. 

which would eventually render him independent of the 
publishers. Many reasons made it a matter of delicacy 
as well as urgency. The expenses of his household 
had considerably increased, and drew largely upon his 
time and labour, so that the studies which he was most 
desirous of pursuing were necessarily kept in abeyance. 
The pension, too, which had been granted so liberally 
by Mr. Wynn, he was unwilling to continue. When 
the offer was first made his friend was a single man, 
his expenses were few, and he had only himself to con- 
sult. Now, however, he had become married, his esta- 
blishment was increased, the position which he held in 
the political world proportionably augmented his expen- 
diture ; and the circumstances under which the annuity 
was bestowed, and those which affected his benefactor, 
now he felt were not equal. Anxious, therefore, to 
avail himself of the frequently-repeated kindness of his 
friend, who pressed him to name some other situation, 
Southey suggested : " When you have it in your power, 
let the one thing you seek for me be the office of 
Historiographer, with a decent pension. If 300£., it 
would satisfy my wishes ; if 400Z., I should be rich. I 
have no worldly ambition ; a man who lives so much 
in the past, and so little in the future, can have none." 
The office of Historiographer, however, did not pre- 
sent itself for his acceptance ; but the Registrarship of 
the Vice- admiralty Court in St. Lucia was proposed to 
him, with a salary of 600Z. per annum, or the alterna- 



A FRIENDLY PENSION. 129 

tive of a pension of 200Z. per annum. The choice was 
not left to Southeys decision. The Grenville ministry 
being required to give into the king a written acknow- 
ledgment that they would not introduce any measure 
tending to Catholic toleration or emancipation, they 
felt it their duty to resign, and this with such expe- 
dition, that no time was left for Southey's answer to 
arrive. However, his friend wisely selected for him 
that which seemed most compatible with his tastes and 
habits, and left him at liberty to pursue his own course. 
The annuity, however, when all fees were deducted, 
amounted to no more than 144?. This pension must 
be regarded as the act of private friendship, and altoge- 
ther unconnected with political considerations. In this 
light Southey viewed it, and in this light accepted it. 

To make up the deficiencies of his income, he now 
engaged to supply the lives of Spanish and Portuguese 
authors in the remaining volumes of Dr. Aikin's "Gene- 
ral Biography ;" a task for which he was well competent, 
from his intimate acquaintance with the literature of 
those two countries. He also sent "Espriella's Let- 
ters" to the press, and was busy on the " History of the 
Cicl." His generous sympathy with affliction led him 
also into a curious correspondence with his publishers. 
A person labouring under mental depression, if not 
debility, found some relief in writing verses and ima- 
gining himself a poet. From composition he aspired to 
publication; and nothing could satisfy his mania but 

K 



130 A CUEIOUS BEQUEST. 

an application, through Southey, to Messrs. Longman 
and Co., to undertake the task of giving them to the 
world. Southey, with his usual good-nature, wrote to 
the publishers on his behalf, though he could not but 
detail the painful circumstances under which he applied. 
The result was as might be expected. The firm con- 
sisted of men of business, and as the publication of such 
a book would be at variance with all strict rules, they 
naturally declined. 

After much labour and much research — after having, 
with indefatigable energy, digested the materials which 
were to compose his "History of Portugal," Southey 
had determined to divide it into the following sections, 
and to pursue and publish them in regular succession 
as separate works. The first, which comprehended the 
history of Portugal in Europe, was to be comprised in 
three volumes ; an equal number were to contain the 
annals of the empire of Portugal in the East ; whilst 
the histories of Brazil, and of the Jesuits in Japan, the 
literary history of Spain and Portugal, and the his- 
tory of Monachism, each subject constituting a com- 
plete work, were to fill another six or seven volumes. 
But the recent events upon the Continent induced him 
to alter this arrangement. The brilliant successes of 
Bonaparte, which had subjected central Europe to his 
imperious tyranny, now threatened to overturn the 
Spanish monarchy; and the blow which struck at the 
independence of Spain menaced the independence of 



" THE HISTORY OF BRAZIL." 131 

Portugal. As the language of invasion became more 
loud, and the danger more imminent, the importance of 
the Portuguese possessions in America rose in propor- 
tion. To those vast and neglected territories, stretching 
from the Maranon to the Eio de la Plata, from the South 
Atlantic to the mountains of Peru and Bolivia, the eyes 
of Europe, and especially the court of Lisbon, were 
turned. Equal to two hundred kingdoms of similar 
dimensions with Portugal, this colossal colony had suf- 
fered from the injustice which the policy of both these 
Peninsular governments pursued towards their distant 
and dependent empires. So little were the advantages 
of this country understood — or, rather, so studious w T as 
the Cortez to repress and destroy every native energy 
and power, that the world was kept comparatively 
ignorant of its extent, character, condition, and re- 
sources. 

Taking advantage of the excitement created by the 
aspect of European politics, Southey determined to 
turn to good account his own knowledge upon a subject 
of which it was confessed so few had any real and 
certain knowledge. Accordingly, deviating from his 
original plan, he hastened forward that portion of his 
work which included the history of Brazil. Not only 
was he master of information on South American affairs 
possessed by few, but, by the aid of his uncle, the 
Rev. Herbert Hill, was enabled to seek it in sources 
only known to one or two. This information Southey 



132 KIRKE WHITE AtfD THE M MONTHLY REVIEW." 

was advised to communicate to the Government, and 
to express his readiness to proceed to Lisbon on this 
specific business, if they should consider the matter 
sufficiently important. 

Time has frequently been compared to money, and 
the fitness of the comparison is obvious to every intelli- 
gent mind. To Southey's life the similitude is espe- 
cially applicable. Necessary labour filled up the greater 
portion of his day, and the interval was devoted to that 
labour which he hoped would crown his extraordinary 
exertions with a permanent and lasting fame. Yet he 
was ever ready to assist his friends, or even strangers, 
with a portion of his invaluable time. He never was 
rich, scarcely ever had anything to spare, yet his bounty 
was liberal, and his generosity, though taxed to the 
uttermost, warm. An instance of this was given in 
the promptitude with which he set himself to place 
before the public the poverty of Mrs. Newton and her 
niece, and the interest which he took in procuring sub- 
scriptions for the widow of Robert Lovell. Southey 
now undertook a not dissimilar task. 

A volume of poems had lately appeared, which 
exhibited a pure style, a feeling heart, and a fervent 
imagination. This volume had been treated with un- 
due severity by the critics of the " Monthly Review," 
which called from the author a letter, detailing the 
circumstances under which they were written and pub- 
lished. This letter was accidentally seen by Southey, 



THE STRUGGLE OF GENIUS. 133 

and lie at once understood the unjust harshness of the 
treatment. In consequence of this he wrote to Kirke 
White, for such was the name of the poet, giving him 
encouragement, lest he should be disheartened by the 
critique, and suggested that though it was imprudent in 
young persons generally to hasten the publication of 
their immature reflections, his circumstances seemed to 
justify his conduct; advised him to prepare a larger 
volume, to be brought out by subscription, and volun- 
tarily offered to exert all the influence he had to assist 
him* in the undertaking, This offer was not, however, 
accepted at the time ; and, with a grateful acknowledg- 
ment of Southey's kindness, all further communication 
was broken off; whilst Kirke White's entrance at Cam- 
bridge turned his mind, alas! too intensely to more 
severe and consuming studies. 

"'Twas thine own Genius gave the final blow, 
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low. 
So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, 
No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
Viewed his own weapon on the fatal dart, 
And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart. 
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel 
He nursed the pinion that impelled the steel : 
"While the same plumage that had warmed his nest 
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast."* 

In the October of 1806 Kirke White died ; destroyed 
by too close an application to his academical course, 

* English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 



134 POSTHUMOUS FAME. 

acting upon a keenly sensitive temperament and a de- 
bilitated constitution. 

Upon his decease the papers which he had left were 
put into Southey 's hands by his brother, Mr. Neville 
White, to undergo an examination as to their literary 
value. The result of this supervision was an offer on 
the part of Southey to edit the poems, and write a 
memoir of the author, which he felt would be exceed- 
ingly interesting, as well as highly useful, in a moral 
view, to future students, whether ambitious of scholastic 
or literary honours. When he was asked what matter 
would be most suited for biographical notices, Southey 
wrote to Mr. Neville White, in the most energetic 
manner, to leave nothing concealed. He considered 
the example of such a youth winning his way in the 
midst of great difficulties, yet preserving his ambition 
unsullied by any dishonourable action, excelling in 
piety and industry, and with a holy confidence in his 
genius, so eminent, that the fullest and most ample 
account should be given to the world. The friends of 
White complied with South ey's wishes, and such was 
his exertions that in little more than a month the work 
was ready for the press ; and to the sincere gratification 
of himself and others — admirers of genius — the first 
edition went off in less than three months, realising a 
considerable sum for the benefit of the mother and 
sister of the unfortunate poet. 

The indefatigable pen of Southey was ever at work, 



HOW TO DO MUCH. 135 

yet lie was always cheerful in the midst of his labours. 
His necessities were great, and he was only desirous 
that his exertions should be proportionate to his wants. 
The works which he has accomplished — and there were 
not many that he undertook that he did not complete 
— exhibit an astonishing monument of human industry ; 
and if those subjects were included which he suggested, 
and was desirous of carrying out, we must be surprised 
at/ the immense extent of his reading, the exhaustless 
treasures of his understanding, and the unwearied 
energy of his mind. I The " Bibliotheca Britannica" 
which he proposed, though not executed, was a project 
which required vast research and a varied mass of 
critical erudition, and under his control would have 
made a valuable addition to our literature. 

The field of his present labours included " The His- 
tory of Brazil," " The Chronicle of the Cid," " The 
Curse of Kehama," " Espriella's Letters," and a Pre- 
face for his " Specimens of the Modern English 'Poets ;" 
to which we might add " Morte d' Arthur," which he pro- 
posed to edit with copious notes, and a volume of 
u Travels in Portugal," which he suggested to his pub- 
lishers. It might be inquired, with much reason, how 
one head and one brace of hands contrived to execute 
so large and diversified a task ? Southey has himself 
left an explanation and answer. " Do not bid me," he 
writes to his friend, Grosvenor Bedford, " do one 
thing at a time — no, nor two neither ; and it is only by 



136 PECUNIARY EMBARRASSMENTS. 

doing many things that I contrive to do so much ; for I 
cannot work long together at anything without hurting 
myself, and so I do everything by heats : then by the 
time I am tired of one, my inclination for another is 
come round. " 

Yet, while he was cheerfully intent upon a compli- 
cation of works, the mind of Southey was not free from 
those embarrassments which, more than anything, ruffle 
the smooth and easy current of one's existence. He 
was anxious at this time to go up to London, but 
this gratification depended upon his finances. Looking 
over his accounts, he found that the profits from the 
current edition of the " Letters of Espriella," and the 
unborn one of the " Cid," had already been appropri- 
ated. On the hope that a new and small edition of 
"Madoc," of "Palmerin," and the " Specimens of Modern 
English Poets," would bring him in the sum of 100Z. at 
the end of a year, he vaguely hopes to be set afloat 
again. Reviewing, however, was his staple means of 
subsistence, and by this he was enabled to meet the 
ordinary expenses of his household. 

A disappointment of rather an unbusiness - like 
character also affected his pecuniary affairs at this time. 
Smirke had projected a splendid edition of " Don Quix- 
ote " with Cadell and Davies, and proposed to Messrs. 
Longman and Co. to take a share in it. They were 
also authorised by him to ask Southey to translate it. 
Whilst the negotiations were still pending, the Scotch 



A DISHONOUKABLE TRANSACTION. 13T 

publishers struck a bargain with a Mr. Balfour, and 
placed the translation in his hands. Southey considered 
this treatment unhandsome in the highest degree, as 
did also Messrs. Longman and Co., who at once with- 
drew from any share in the publication. 

Though his affairs seemed in a bad train, yet 
Southey was ever confident in his abilities, and cheerful 
in the performance of his duties. He only hoped for 
health. And this blessing his, he felt as though he 
could defy any attempts of adversity to overthrow his 
happiness. 



138 A NEW OFFER. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Disagreement between the Editor and Proprietors of the " Edin- 
burgh Keview" — Overtures to South ey — Continental Politics 
— Sir Walter Scott withdraws from the " Edinburgh Review" 
— "The Quarterly Review" — Engagement of South ey on it 
— GrhTord and his Contributors. 

Mtat. 34-35. 

A difference having sprung up about this time be- 
tween the editor of the " Edinburgh Review " (Jeffrey) 
and the proprietors (Messrs. Longman and Co.), the 
latter applied to Southey to furnish reviews " in his 
best manner," intending to transfer the editorial depart- 
ment from that celebrated critic. His answer is cha- 
racteristic of his sincerity. " I will review the books as 
soon as they arrive, and as well as I can ; but I cannot 
do them better for an Edinburgh Review than for 
an Annual Register." This anticipated connexion with 
a periodical which eventually attacked him so bitterly 
was broken off; but he was shortly after invited to join 
the ranks of its contributors in a more friendly manner. 



SOUTHEY AND JEFFREY. 139 

Sir Walter Scott was at this time closely associated 
with the principal writers of this northern Review, and 
had some considerable influence upon it. Wishing to 
be of service to Southey, and thinking that his connex- 
ion with it might be beneficial to him in a pecuniary 
point of view, as well as by giving a wider scope for his 
energies, he wrote to him, delicately offering some space 
in that periodical. Sir Walter took occasion to remark 
upon the severity of the criticisms upon " Madoc " and 
" Thalaba," which had appeared in the " Edinburgh 
Review," attributing it rather to Jeffrey's want of taste 
in poetry than any mal-appreciation of Southey's talents, 
or want of respect for his person on the part of the 
reviewer. He also hinted that considerations of a per- 
sonal nature should not prevent his accepting the pro- 
posal, if he felt so disposed. The same letter commu- 
nicated Scott's intention of publishing a small edition of 
the " Morte d' Arthur," a work which Southey had al- 
ready engaged to prepare for the press. 

The answer which the latter returned to this kind 
proposal expresses his obligation to its author for the 
good- will evinced therein towards himself, and the ge- 
neral grounds of his incapacity to join the Review ; 
but the tone in which he speaks of Jeffrey indicates 
strongly that he had not forgotten, and it was hard to 
forget, the "pert " things that had been said against his 
poems by the Caledonian critic. His declaration, that 
he scarcely had one opinion in " common with the 



140 DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. 

Review," was true. Whilst Jeffrey was for peace, he 
was for war— -the one w r as for Catholic emancipation, 
the other against it — and though the liberty of following 
his own opinions independently was apparently given, 
yet Southey felt that every individual article must be 
influenced by the Review as a whole, and derive a merit 
from the authority of all the rest. Upon these grounds, 
and others of a more personal nature, he declined the 
offer, although it might have added a hundred pounds, 
or double that amount, to his income. 

The political events which. agitated the Continent in 
the year 1808 were of the greatest importance, and 
fraught with the utmost anxiety to the British Govern- 
ment. The rapid successes of .Napoleon Bonaparte, an 
enemy " against whom the faith that holds the moral 
elements of the world together was no protection, " filled 
the minds of the English with just apprehensions. 
Having disregarded the treaties which were framed for 
the security and independence of Europe — having an- 
nexed Italy, Belgium, and Prussia to his dominions — 
having made Austria his vassal and Russia his ally— -this 
insolent conqueror menaced even Britain itself with the 
preparations of an invasion. Not content with this, his 
ambition had overrun Spain with his armies — substi- 
tuted a spurious sovereign on the throne of Charles V., 
and, pursuing his conquests, had driven into exile the 
members of the royal house of Braganza. The only 
power capable of sustaining or repelling his inundating 



PEACE AND WAR. 141 

forces was Great Britain. With indomitable courage 
she had maintained her position against the repeated 
assaults of an enemy flushed with unclouded fortune, 
and issuing forth at length into the open field checked 
the presumptuous pride of victory. The convention 
which was signed at Cintra, and signalised the success 
of the British army, excited, and justly, the most indig- 
nant murmurs and discontent in this country. The 
terms upon which the French were allowed to escape, 
appeared not only inadequate to the superiority which 
we had gained over them, hut disgraceful to the nation. 
Nevertheless, the " Edinburgh Review * pursued a 
peace policy, and used all its arguments and influence to 
dissuade the people from prosecuting the Peninsular 
War. Southey, — who had anxiously watched the pro- 
gress of events, and, in common with many others, 
dreaded that the fall of these two countries would be 
the signal of active operations against the British Isles, 
— was urgent for the strongest and most decided mea- 
sures being taken against the enemy, whilst yet the 
battle could be fought and the event resolved on foreign 
shores. For nearly two centuries England had been 
exempt from the calamities of fire and sword ; and the 
only means by which the havoc could be warded off, and 
peace and tranquillity maintained at home — so it ap- 
peared to them — was by preventing this military despot 
from making himself master of Spain and Portugal. 
It was at this period that a proposal was made to 



142 " THE QUARTERLY REVIEW." 

Southey which had a great influence upon his future 
life, and brought him forward into political prominency. 
It also fixed him irrevocably to a labour for which he 
had so frequently expressed his distaste, and from 
which lie always hoped to emancipate himself. 

Sir Walter Scott, who had so lately urged South ey 
to lend his 'critical assistance to the " Edinburgh," now 
himself disapproved of the strong liberal tendency of 
several of its articles, and thought proper to withdraw 
from it entirely. Withholding his assent from its 
principles, he was also anxious to enunciate his own 
and those of the party whose sentiments coincided 
with his. He therefore resolved to establish another 
Review, that should, by the quality of its criticism, 
attract some of that attention which Jeffrey and his 
corps had engrossed. This desire quickly suggested 
the '"Quarterly Review," and Southey was invited to 
contribute. As the principles of this Review approxi- 
mated so nearly to his own, he hesitated not to accept 
the offer ; and so closely did his connexion with it be- 
come, that for nearly forty years, and till within a short 
period of his death, he w T as one of its most able and 
important supporters. 

How readily he would enter into such a scheme 
may further be imagined from the strong feelings with 
which he regarded the politics of the " Edinburgh," 
and his aversions to the opinions and tastes, if not 
of the person, of its editor. "lam ready, desirous and 



DISTASTE FOR POLITICS. 143 

able, to take part in this Review," was his immediate 
reply ; but when it was proposed to him to prepare a 
paper upon the political aspect of Spain, a subject in 
which he had long taken a deep interest, and which, 
of all others, it appeared to his friends he was most 
capable of writing, he shrank from the proposition, and 
would have excused himself from taking any share in 
the politics of the Review. 

He had no objection to review books of travels and 
voyages, biographies, and even histories, for w 7 hich he 
felt himself, as he expresses it, entirely competent ; but 
for politics, he despised all parties too much to belong 
to any. He was for continuing the war against Bona- 
parte as the only security of the kingdom ; he knew too 
well the influence of Catholicism in the south of Eu- 
rope, and therefore objected to further concessions to it 
in England ; he felt the necessity of reform, and pro- 
fessed himself a warm supporter of the Church of Eng- 
land. 

These are the principles upon which his political 
system was at this time founded — the creed which he 
thinks it necessary to confess in defence of his inde- 
pendence of opinion, whilst intimating his desire and 
readiness to enter upon the new Review, of which Gif- 
ford was to guide the helm. It was not to be subject to 
the views of others, or to have his own principles con- 
trolled, that he would engage in this new literary 
labour. He required that what he wrote should be the 



144 A JUST COMPLAINT. 

expression of his own judgment and convictions upon 
the subject submitted to his reviewing ; and so sensitive 
was he upon this point, that when it occurred to him, 
ministerial influence might bear upon the opinions pro- 
mulgated in the " Quarterly Review," he states at once 
his decision : — " I am very willing to travel with them 
as far as we are going the same way, and when our 
roads separate, shall, of course, leave them." 

One of the principal causes of grievance that Sou- 
they had to complain of during the connexion of Mr. 
Gifford with th\s Review, was the license with which 
his articles were pruned and altered. It is understood 
that a certain control shall be exercised over a perio- 
dical by the person to whom its management is en- 
trusted ; and to give consistency and character to the 
whole, such a power is requisite. But it appears that 
this prerogative was exercised with considerable abso- 
lutism by the Tory editor; and not sentences alone 
were revised, and weakened by the revision, but, by the 
omission or transposition of words, Southey was made to 
express opinions diametrically opposed to his own views. 
With his first article he leaves this injunction : — " Now 
I wish you * would ask Mr. Gifford, if he thinks it ex- 
pedient to use the pruning -knife, to let the copy be 
returned to me when the printer has done with it, be- 
cause it is ten to one that the passages he would curtail, 

* Grosvenor C. Bedford. 



AN IMPOTENT APPEAL. 145 

— being the most Southeyish of the whole — would be 
those that I should like best myself; and, therefore, I 
would have the satisfaction of putting them in again for 
my own satisfaction, if for nobody's else." This appeal, 
however, was vain. Frequently did he resent the viola- 
tion, whether intentional or accidental, of many of his 
favourite passages and most approved opinions. Probably 
the distance at which he lived from town made his 
applications and menaces equally disregarded. The in- 
justice of such conduct, and also the remedy, are ob- 
vious ; and, probably, Southey, to assert his independ- 
ence, would have quitted the Review, had he not con- 
tinually anticipated a reformation in the manners of 
the editor, and had he not been induced to remain upon 
it by some of his friends, who were closely connected 
with it, and who represented the injury his withdrawal 
might cause to the Quarterly and the principles it 
espoused. It must be admitted, that it would have been 
better for his reputation had he been less compliant in 
this particular. 



146 VISIT TO DURHAM. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Marriage of his brother Henry — Goes to Durham — His Family 
— Canning — Stewardship of the Greenwich Hospital — "The 
Friend" — Ebenezer Elliott — Criticism — "Edinburgh Annual 
Register " — William Eoberts — Opinions — Death of his Uncle 
South ey — Generosity — Advice to a young Friend entering 
College — Shelley — Assassination of the Hon. Mr. Perceval 
— Politics. 

^Etat. 35-38. 

In the spring of the year 1809 Southey was called to 
Durham, to be present at the interesting ceremony of 
his youngest brother's marriage. It cannot be forgotten 
how deep an anxiety Southey had taken in this child. 
Although not rich, he had placed him at Norwich to be 
carefully educated ; and when he was of sufficient years, 
enabled him to study the science of medicine in the 
University of Edinburgh, where he received his degree. 
Upon obtaining this qualification, Dr. Henry Southey 
established himself at Durham, where, enjoying the 
countenance of several distinguished families, his repu- 
tation quickly rose. The quiet and study of Greta Hall 
had frequently been interrupted by his visits; and it 



DK. ZOUCH AND DK. BELL. 147 

was always observed, that the exercise into which he 
w T ould draw his brother, whose natural inclination made 
him of too sedentary habits, was always beneficial to his 
health, and that Southey was never better than during 
the sojourn of his brother. It was a pleasant duty 
Southey was called on to perform, and he undertook the 
journey with the conviction that the travel would be 
advantageous, and that no pleasure could exceed that of 
congratulating another upon a piece of good fortune. 
The company that he met there consisted of several 
persons whose tastes and pursuits coincided with his 
own ; amongst whom may be mentioned Dr. Zouch, the 
author of the life of Sir Philip Sydney ; and Dr. 
Bell, the translator of the Hindoo system of teaching, 
w T hose plans of education at one time were received 
with great favour. With this gentleman Southey be- 
came more intimate in after years, aided him in deve- 
loping his theory, and upon his decease had the melan- 
choly task of giving to the world a narrative of his life. 

The family of Southey consisted at this time of one 
son and three daughters, the youngest an infant. Upon 
these he bestowed an affection peculiarly tender, and in 
their pleasures and enjoyments found the purest delight. 
He joined in their innocent sports, threw aside the con- 
ventional restraints of age, and appeared amongst them 
in the full spirit of boyish hilarity, exciting and receiving 
amusement. Although the interruptions they caused to 
his studies were frequent, and no one understood better 



148 HIS FONDNESS FOE HIS CHILDREN. 

the value of time, he not only regarded their intrusion 
with cheerfulness, but welcomed it as an especial privi- 
lege. In all that concerned his children he manifested 
an intense sensibility, and in his love for them his whole 
happiness was rooted. Upon Herbert his choicest hopes, 
the strength of his affection, seemed centred. All the 
father's heart gushed forth when contemplating "his 
beautiful boy;" and in the future of this child, in the 
expression of whose looks and in the sweetness of whose 
smiles even now the animated flush of intellectuality 
beamed forth, he formed expectations and indulged day- 
dreams, alas ! too beautiful to be realised. His youngest 
child died about this time. This loss it was natural 
should be more felt by the mother ; yet, in commenting 
upon the event, he says : "Were I to speak as sincerely 
of my family as Wordsworth's little girl, my story would 
be, that I have five children — three of them at home, 
and two (this last was the second death that had occurred 
in his family) under my mother's care in heaven." 

Southey intended to have passed into Scotland in 
the May of this year (1810) with his friend Sir Walter. 
The latter, however, was detained longer than he expected 
in London ; and circumstances arising in his own family 
to prevent him, the projected journey was postponed. 
He received, however, a gratifying testimony from his 
friend, not only of his personal regard, but of the esti- 
mation in which he held his high talents. Scott was 
well acquainted with Canning ; and this intimacy he 



CANNING AND SOUTHEY. 149 

was desirous of improving for the benefit of Southey. 
" George Ellis and I," says Sir Walter, in a letter of 
this date, " have both seen a strong desire in Mr. Canning 
to be of service to you in any way within his power that 
could be pointed out, and this without any reference to 
political opinions." After referring to an official appoint- 
ment then vacant, which he justly concludes was unfitted 
for the tastes and habits of a literary man, Sir Walter 
points out that there were frequently vacant, both in 
England and Scotland, professors' chairs, to fill either 
of which Southey could easily make himself competent, 
and to obtain which for him his friends were willing 
to exert their utmost influence. He also alludes to 
diplomatic situations, but naturally infers they would 
be less preferable to his tastes and pursuits. 

The offer thus made bore with it an expression of 
the high respect in which his services to his country 
were held by one who not only could appreciate talent, 
but had it in his power to befriend it. It also w T as made 
in full sincerity, and there could be no doubt of the in- 
tention of Canning to fulfil the proposal made through 
Sir Walter. Had this occurred a few years earlier, the 
offer would have been received with enthusiasm. Por- 
tugal and his history would have immediately suggested 
themselves, and nothing excited greater pleasure than a 
voyage to the banks of the Tagus ; but he had now be- 
come so established in his domestic relations, so con- 
firmed in the enjoyment of fire-side tranquillity, that 



150 EOYAL HISTOKIOGEAPHER. 

he was reluctant to disturb the idea by transferring his 
household gods to foreign shores. The engagements 
which immediately pressed upon his mind were so nu- 
merous and engrossing, that he scarcely heaved a sigh 
over his neglected history ; and the beauties of his own 
lake-scenery, and the occasional visits of his oldest 
friends, operated upon him so powerfully, that the 
genial suns of the South and the orange -groves of 
Cintra had failed to charm his spirit. The only sug- 
gestion he made in answer to these kind proposals was 
that an office should be created, conferring upon its 
occupier the title of Royal Historiographer, such as 
existed in Scotland ; and that the salary should be about 
400Z. per annum. "Whether Mr. Canning can do this," 
he concluded, " I know not ; but if this could be done, 
it would be adequate to all I want, and beyond that my 
wishes have never extended."* 

Whilst this suggestion was pending, the Stewardship 
of the Greenwich Hospital for the Derwentwater estates 
became vacant. This Southey was anxious to procure. 
The property included a large portion of the country in 
the immediate vicinity of Keswick, and would give him 
the power of planting and beautifying. It moreover 
gave, as he supposed, an income of 600/. to 800Z. a-year. 

* In the supposition that no such office existed, Southey was 
at fault. The title had already heen created, and the situation 
was held by Duteus with a salary of 400/., the word English 
being substituted for Royal. 



"THE FRIEND." 151 

With this object in view, he wrote to Sir Walter and 
other friends for their interest. Upon inquiry, however, 
it was ascertained that the situation was no sinecure, and 
totally unfitted for Southey. 

Coleridge, towards the close of the year 1808, the 
year in which he gave his lectures at the Royal Insti- 
tution, began his plan of ''-The Friend," in which he 
was aided by Daniel Stuart, editor of " The Courier." 
The circulation by no means answering his expectations, 
he wrote to Southey soliciting his assistance in the shape 
of a letter addressed to " The Friend," justifying the 
form and style of the paper. " Could I attribute it to 
any removable error of my own," urges Coleridge, "I 
should be less dejected.'' 

Southey readily acceded to this request ; and an 
epistle was shortly after forwarded, written in an 
amusing style, and suggesting the sole alteration that 
the articles should be shorter. " Brevity," it says, 
quoting a contemporary journalist, " is the htfmour of 
the times : a tragedy must not exceed fifteen hundred 
lines ; a fashionable preacher must not trespass above 
fifteen minutes upon his congregation. We have short 
waistcoats and short campaigns ; everything must be 
short, except lawsuits, speeches in Parliament, and tax- 
tables." But in the letter which accompanied this essay 
a different tone is used. "I have re-read," says Southey, 
" the last eight numbers ; and the truth is, they left 
me no heart for jesting or irony. In time they will do 



152 EBENEZEK ELLIOTT. 

their work : it is a form of publication that is unlucky, 
and that cannot now be remedied. But this evil is 
merely temporary." However, this prediction was never 
fulfilled. " The Friend," after extending to twenty- 
seven numbers, was dropped, it being found that the 
nature of the papers did not meet the public taste. 

We have already seen how willing Southey was to 
help literary men, or those in any way connected with, 
or dependent upon, literature. He had frequent appeals 
made to his judgment upon the effusions of youthful 
aspirants, to whose feelings he always paid the tenderest 
regard. So early as October 1808 he had been applied 
to by Ebenezer Elliott for his opinion upon a poem for- 
warded at the time, and with a request that, if it were 
favourable, he would oblige the author by a recommenda- 
tion to one of the publishers. To this petition Southey 
objected, upon the plea that the latter looked at whatever 
w r as sent them only with an eye to business, and were 
at once capable of detecting what was likely to answer 
their purpose in the market. Upon the first point he 
spoke with great candour; and whilst acknowledging that 
the poem exhibited the possession of strong poetic feel- 
ing, and that in no ordinary degree, dissuaded what he 
considered premature publication. He rather advised 
Elliott to feel his way by sending short pieces to the 
papers for insertion ; and if they met the public taste, 
that it w T ould soon be indicated, and the editor be glad 
to avail himself of his services. Southey feeling that 



EX-PARTE ADVICE. 153 

there were in the poems indications of a more than 
ordinary vigour, naturally felt that the author would 
' eventually produce something far superior, and then, 
on looking hack on his early efforts, would regret their 
publication. There was still a more prevailing reason 
urged, and this was, the nature of the criticism of the 
day. He placed "before him the prohable effect an un- 
favourable review might have upon him. Eegarding 
his future, it might blast his prospects ; with respect to 
himself, it might depress his energies and spirit ; at all 
events, it would subject him to the provoking, if not 
malicious, ridicule of seeming friends, and thus be a 
source of constant vexation to his sensitive mind. 

The severity of these remarks naturally suggests the 
idea of an ecc-jmrte representation, the witness having 
himself suffered from the judicial lash of the critic. 
But if we examine what was at that time the oracle of 
criticism, the " Edinburgh Review," we find there an 
evident desire to crush aspiring talent, merely for the 
sake of doing so. The writers were clever, and they 
knew it ; but they disliked cleverness in other people. 
It is well known in what way Byron checked their 
arrogance. 

Ebenezer Elliott, like Burns, was early inured to 
toil and privation. He was born at Sheffield in the 
year 1781. Being thrown amongst a town population, 
he became a strong politician. His love of poetry ori- 
ginated in the perusal of Thompson ; but the pictures 



1 54 " THE EDINBURGH ANNUAL REGISTER." 

he drew were not confined to rural scenes. Like 
Crabbe, he depicted the famished condition of the 
wretched and neglected poor, to whose misery he had 
many opportunities of bearing witness ; and for the 
eagerness and devotion, as well as truthfulness, with 
which he represented and exposed the evil results of the 
Corn-laws, he has been called the Corn-law Rhymer. 
His genius was original, and he was probably re- 
deemed, by the advice he received from the experience 
of Southey, from falling into more of those errors of 
taste, which are found in the midst of much that is 
sweet, beautiful, and effective in his poems. 

Every year seemed to bring to Southey an increase 
of labour. Notwithstanding that the subjects he had 
on hand were so many as apparently to leave no leisure 
for contemplating other employments, he now entered 
into a new engagement of a much greater magnitude 
than any he had yet undertaken. 

The proprietors of the "Edinburgh Annual Regis- 
ter'' had forwarded to him, towards the close of the year 
1808, a prospectus of their new publication, soliciting 
his assistance both in prose and verse. He accordingly 
sent some trifling contributions, and the. matter thus 
rested until the following August, when they requested 
him to furnish the periodical with an account of the 
Spanish affairs during the past year. He had scarcely 
turned the matter over in his mind, when they wrote 
again, urging him to undertake the History of Europe 



THE HISTORY OF EUROPE. 155 

and the historical department generally, the gentleman 
who had been engaged for that office having disap- 
pointed them. 

The proprietors were not insensible of the important 
function they had pressed him to assume. In the pro- 
spectus which they had previously issued to the public, 
they fully reviewed the capacities requisite in one 
who should attempt historical composition, whether con- 
temporaneous or otherwise. " A sacred veneration for 
truth; a patient research through dubious and contra- 
dictory authorities ; a lucid arrangement of materials so 
painfully collected ; a judicious selection, generalising 
details, yet retaining every circumstance characteristic 
of the actors and of the age ; a style emphatic and 
dignified in the narration of important events, concise 
in the less interesting passages, but natural, clear, and 
unaffected through the whole : these requisites are as 
peremptorily demanded from him who compiles the 
annals of the year, as from the historian of a hundred 
centuries.'' 

The year was far spent when this application was 
made ; and it required more than ordinary speed and 
industry to complete the work, were it undertaken. 
However, confident in his own powers, Southey at once 
closed wdth the proposal ; nor were the publishers at all 
dissatisfied at the manner in w T hich he discharged the 
office of Historiographer, unless it might be by the 
enunciation of bold and startling opinions. To make 



156 WHITING HISTOKY. 

it worth his while to devote, not his best energies — for 
it was his maxim, ' Whatever thine hand findeth for thee 
to do, do it with all thine heart ' — but the best portion 
of his time, they offered him 400Z. a-year; and this 
engagement, whilst it lasted, was one of the most lu- 
crative he had enjoyed. 

Nor were the subjects distasteful. His early asso- 
ciations with Spain and Portugal, the principal field of 
action, made him take a deep and glowing interest 
in the current affairs of that Peninsula; and with a 
feeling of personal exultation and hope, he chronicled 
the general events that affected it. He also considered 
this engagement superior in kind to the ordinary pe- 
riodical labour which had previously occupied his time. 
Reviews, he felt, were only of ephemeral weight, and he 
frequently complained that his strength was frittered 
away upon topics of temporary importance. In the 
task which he had now undertaken to perform, his de- 
sire was to produce a work that should be hereafter 
referred to as an authority; and the hope that he 
should be able to give to the world an accurate body of 
contemporaneous history, which might lend a lasting 
memory to his name, stimulated him to more than 
ordinary industry in his new labour. 

Another incident now occurs in his life, which ex- 
hibits his willingness to do good and to be of service 
to his distressed fellow-creatures, notwithstanding the 
expense of time and trouble it might cause. An appli- 



WILLIAM K0BERTS. 157 

cation had been made to him by a Mr. James, a banker 
of Birmingham, to edit a small volume of poems, 
under the following circumstances. A youth of Bristol, 
named William Roberts, who received a salary of 101. 
per annum, which assisted materially towards the sup- 
port of a father, mother, and an only sister, had re- 
cently died of consumption, at the age of nineteen. 
This youth, a few days before his death, bequeathed 
his manuscripts in trust to two friends, one of whom 
was Mr. James, to be published after his death for the 
benefit of his sister, his last thought being bent upon 
her helpless condition. He was further informed that 
the family, now reduced to such distressing indigence, 
had known better clays, and enjoyed the comforts, not 
to say luxuries, of an easy opulence. The opinion of 
Southey, upon being consulted, was, that the poems 
would not of themselves procure a sale, although there 
were evidences of a truly poetic feeling; and that, there- 
fore, it would be better to dispose of as many as they 
could by subscription. A memoir of young Roberts 
was affixed to the poems ; and the manner in which 
Southey exerted himself amongst his friends soon 
enabled the trustees to place Miss Roberts in a situa- 
tion, where she was enabled respectably to benefit her- 
self and her parents. 

The events that fill up the next six months are 
but of secondary importance. The first volume of the 
" History of Brazil" had just appeared. It was one of 



158 CONVICTION AND CONSISTENCY. 

the most elegant and beautiful of his publications. He 
never shrank from that independence of thought which 
he considered to be the essence of true liberty. In his 
writings in the " Register" he felt convinced " that h^ 
should offend many and please no party." " But my 
own heart," he says, "is satisfied, and that feeling 
would always be to me a sufficient reward." His 
opinions generally met with few supporters ; and the 
letters he received from his friends frequently testify 
how far they dissented from him on matters of taste, as 
well as the more important points of political economy. 
It is well that a man should be guided by his own con- 
viction, and that he should be honest enough to stand 
by that conviction. We cannot too much admire such a 
character ; but when conviction is founded upon a pre- 
sumption of knowledge, upon blindfold prejudice and 
narrow bigotry, all the virtue of consistency is lost. 
In this case Southey, unfortunately, derived his informa- 
tion from books that belonged to other ages ; and over- 
looking the circumstances relative to modern feelings 
and modern requirements, dreaded every innovation as 
the precursor of anarchy. He imagined that he ac- 
quired as much knowledge, and could rely as faithfully 
upon such knowledge, in his retirement amongst the 
lakes, as if he were busily engaged on the theatre of 
the world, witnessed with his own eyes the daily poli 
tical changes that were taking place, conversed person 
ally with the chief actors in the great arena, and had 



ARBITEARY IDEAS. 159 

unlimited opportunities of investigating the main- 
springs that set in motion and the causes that regu- 
lated the progress of events. Upon this supposition 
he thought and acted ; and to this imperfect knowledge 
we are to ascribe his political creed at this period. 
" Of three points," such is the simplicity of his con- 
fession,* "I have now convinced myself: that the 
great desideratum in our government is a premier 
instead of a cabinet; that a regular opposition f is an 
absurdity that could not exist anywhere but in an 
island without destroying the government ; and that 
parliamentary reform is the shortest road to anarchy." 
Upon another occasion he observes : " The evil which 
I wish to see remedied is the aggregation of landed 
property, which gives to such a man as the com- 
mand of whole counties, and enables such men as 

and to sing, ' We are seven,' like Wordsworth's 

little girl, into the ear of a minister, and demand for 

* Letter to Grosvenor Bedford, Feb. 1811. 

f There is an anecdote recorded of a well-known Eastern 
viceroy lately in England, who, on being taken to the House of 
Commons, inquired who those gentlemen were seated on the 
left of the Speaker. He was informed they were the party who 
carried on a systematic opposition to the measures of the go- 
vernment. "Opposition!" he exclaimed; "then, in the name 
of Allah, why does not the Queen cut off all their heads ?" Such 
an incident corresponds well with Oriental notions of govern- 
ment; but we are surprised to see that the opinions of an en- 
lightened Englishman should approximate so nearly to the 
policy of an Eastern tyrant. 



160 INCAPACITY FOR POLITICS. 

himself situations which he is unfit for. This is a 
worse evil than that which our mortmain statutes were 
enacted to remedy ; for it is gradually rooting out the 
yeomanry of the country, and dwindling the gentry 
into complete political insignificance. It is not parlia- 
mentary reform that can touch this evil ; some further 
limitation of entail, or a proper scheme of income tax- 
ation, might." 

The fallacy of such reasoning is ohvious ; and it is 
difficult to conceive how Southey could expect a remedy , 
to be applied to an evil which was a vast source of 
influence and wealth to those — the oligarchy of the 
country — who alone had the constitutional power of 
removing it. Had he reposed an equal confidence in 
the integrity and virtue of the people, and those who 
stood forth the advocates for an extension of their 
rights and privileges, as he did in the wisdom and 
honesty of placemen, his views would not only have 
acquired strength and confirmation, but his services 
to the cause of progress would have been infinitely 
valuable. He had, however, never applied himself to 
the study of politics with that exemption from preju- 
dice which is necessary ; he distrusted every author 
that failed to reciprocate his own opinions, and showed 
a want of that penetration into the causes and effects 
of government, which has enabled some men to write 
upon future events with the precision of prophecy. 
The disgust which he frequently confesses he felt for 



A STEAJNOE HiSLLLCINATION, 161 

political writing, seems to indicate a conscious inability 
to grasp those great principles upon which the liberty 
and prosperity of a nation are founded ; and if this 
incapacity did exist, it might at all events have induced 
him to oppose with gentleness and write with diffidence. 

But another strange hallucination in the mind of 
Southey may be noticed here. The critics had shown 
but little favour to his poems, and the small sale which 
they commanded seemed to bespeak an equal distaste 
on the part of the public. The opposition which he 
received from the reviewers was met with an equally 
persevering opposition, we might also say obstinacy, on 
his part. The new style, or rhythm, which he had 
adopted, no less than the character of the poems, espe- 
cially of those based upon oriental mythology, were there 
no other reason wanting, was very unfavourable to his 
chefs d'ceuvre, and prevented them from ever becoming 
popular. He was, however, unwilling to throw 7 the 
odium of this neglect upon the nature and character 
of his poems, but invariably referred it to an obtuseness 
in the heart and understanding of the reader, which he 
presumed it was impossible to reach. 

About this time Thomas Southey, of Taunton, died. 
The distance at which the uncle and the nephew lived 
from each other, the infrequency of their meetings, 
and a discordance in tastes and habits, had for some 
time quenched any hope that yet lingered in the mind 
of Southey of enjoying the least portion of the property 

M 



162 DISPOSITION OF PROPERTY. 

he had possessed. A maiden sister of this unna- 
tural brother had been turned from his doors by the 
violence of his temper, and lived in a precarious and 
ill-provided condition. Such an act at once suggested 
to Southey the propriety of forgetting that he had a 
wealthy, childless relative, and events proved the wisdom 
of this resolution. One half of the estates was left to 
the son of a friend at Bristol, in no way connected with 
the family, and the rest was divided amongst servants 
and a few such objects of the deceased's regard. We 
cannot forbear speculating upon the good that this coun- 
try might have derived from the property being disposed 
of in the legitimate course of things. Had it been left 
to Southey, or such a portion of it as would have ren- 
dered him independent for life, that busy and bitter 
warfare which he waged against parties might have been 
spared him. He might, perhaps, have refused the lau- 
reateship, which produced him so many political enemies ; 
his pen would not have been exercised in lauding one of 
the most tyrannical and mean of England's monarchs ; 
and his time would have been nobly and honourably de- 
voted to the great object of his heart calmly and un- 
interruptedly — the "History of Portugal." He would 
have sat down, far from the world's ignoble strife, dispas- 
sionately to present to us the annals of those countries 
connected with it, and elucidate the rise or decline 
of empires now sinkiug into decay or emerging into 
greatness. 



ADVICE TO UNDERGRADUATES. 163 

South ey was always anxious to give the best advice 
to those who consulted him, and to direct them into that 
course which he believed would be most conducive to 
their temporal happiness. This he did with great 
freedom and candour, and the kindness and considera- 
tion with which the counsel was imparted seldom failed 
to render it acceptable and beneficial. A young friend, 
Mr. James White, who had just matriculated, had about 
this time requested his opinion on the best course to be 
pursued in his college career. The substance of his 
answ r er, which applies to every young student, consists 
in advising Mr. White to be careful of his health — to 
pursue no study continuously for a long time — to seek 
a diversity of amusement, physical as well as mental — 
and to take a walk regularly each day. To give a mo- 
tive for this walk he further invites him to study botany, 
as a source of the highest delight, and which, in a 
variety of ways, might be useful to him. After dissuad- 
ing him from wasting the strength and marrow of his 
health upon academic honours and pursuits, which would, 
perhaps, be useless to him beyond the precincts of the 
University, he observes : — " Your wiser plan should be 
to look on to that state of life in which you wish and 
expect to be placed, and to lay in such knowledge as will 
then turn to account." 

A peculiar instance of Southey's generosity now 
comes before our notice. His friend, Mr. William 
Taylor of Norwich, had lately met with considerable 



164 DELICATE GENEROSITY. 

losses. In fact, so serious was the derangement of his 
affairs, that it was probable he would be reduced to 
penury for the remainder of his life, the interest of the 
property still remaining not being sufficient for the 
support of himself and his family. This made Southey 
extremely anxious to assist him, and an anonymous 
plan of relief immediately suggested itself to his mind. 
Accordingly he wrote to a gentleman, the mutual 
friend* of both, to inquire who was most in Mr. Tay- 
lor's confidence, and proposed that an annuity should 
be purchased for him, that the matter should be con- 
ducted with the greatest delicacy, and that the money 
should be paid without Mr. Taylor's knowing whence it 
came. " I am ready now," he adds, " either with a 
yearly ten pounds, or with fifty at once. If more were 
in my power, more should be done." 

It w T as at this time that Southey became acquainted 
with Shelley, Having been expelled from Eton for 
publishing a tract entitled " The Necessity of Atheism," 
and turned out of doors for marrying a girl of seventeen 
against his father's consent, Shelley had come to reside 
at Keswick. Southey fancied he saw in him the image 
of what he himself was in 1794. Speculative, bold, 
Pantisocratic, Shelley made no scruple of expressing his 
metaphysical ideas and mystic philosophy with careless 
frankness. The corruptions of society were freely 

v . ■ * Dr. Gooch. 



SHELLEY AT KESWICK. 165 

handled — the Church and State were fearlessly attacked 
—and, in his enthusiastic love of liberty, the wildest 
schemes were proposed and defended. Southey pre- 
sumed that he should be able to make such an impres- 
sion on the mind of his new friend as would lead him 
eventually to abandon his theories. " I tell him," says 
Southey, " that all the difference between us is, that he 
is nineteen and I am thirty-seven." Shelley, however, 
did not remain long enough at Keswick to determine 
what his association with Southey might effect. 

The assassination of the Rt. Hon. Mr. Perceval, which 
occurred on the 11th of May, 1812, threw the whole 
country into a violent state of excitement, it being re- 
garded, at first, as the opening act of a deep and exten- 
sive tragedy. The fears entertained as to the result of 
this deed by the Conservative party appear to have been 
extravagant in the extreme, and Southey in the outburst 
of his feelings writes to his friend:* — -" In spite of 
myself, I have been weeping; this has relieved the 
throbbings of my head, but my mind is overcharged 
and must pour itself out." His first apprehension was 
that this country stood on the brink of an insurrection of 
the poor against the rich — that a helium servile was 
about to bring upon society the most dreadful calamities 
— and that the world might look forward to an English 
Jacquerie. His only hope on this occasion was in the 

* Grosvenor Bedford. 



166 PAELIAMENTAEY EXCITEMENT. 

army, and the promptitude of the Government. The 
desire of establishing a dictatorship seemed to be pre- 
sent to his imagination, so greatly were his feelings 
alarmed. Another step was suggested by him, which 
would have struck directly at the privileges of the 
highest court in the kingdom. Declaring his wish that 
the habeas corpus should be suspended, he proceeds to 
demand that every Jacobin newspaper should be seized 
— that the galleries of the House should be cleared 
whenever any of these agitators rose to speak, and if 
they presumed to print the speech out of parliament, 
that the offender should be summarily punished. 

We must look to a period before the Revolution of 
1688 to find a parallel for the condition to which Southey 
w r ould, according to these sentiments, have reduced the 
liberties of Englishmen. The expression of such senti- 
ments, — not unpalatable to the temper of power at any 
time, most agreeable at this, — sentiments suited to the 
most tyrannical periods of our history — excited the most 
violent indignation amongst the Liberal party. So 
strongly Conservative was his language — so despotic the 
measures he suggested against the friends of freedom, 
that the " Edinburgh Review " did not hesitate to re- 
commend passages in his writings for prosecution ; and 
in the House of Commons, Mr. Whitbread brought the 
same subject before the notice of its honourable mem- 
bers. 

Another question of importance — the education of 



THE GREATEST INNOVATOR. 1 67 

the people — Southey views in the same melancholy 
light. It was obvious that seditious papers — so they 
were styled at the time — became extensively dissemi- 
nated and assiduously read, especially " in tap-rooms 
and pot-houses," where Cobbett and Hunt were idolised 
as the evangelists of civil and religious liberty. These 
papers inquired into and published existing abuses, re- 
presented to the people their political rights, and whilst 
proclaiming those doctrines endeavoured to inflame the 
populace by exaggerating the tyranny of their op- 
pressors. 

" Time," says Bacon, " is the greatest innovator;" 
and by a sound deduction concludes, that revolutions in 
nations and governments ought to be met with wisdom 
and counsel, and salutary reforms. There are, how- 
ever, politicians who regard all political changes as 
inimical to the well-being of a state, and imagine that 
the laws and institutions of one generation will serve 
the interests of another. To this class Southey un- 
doubtedly belonged. He desired to maintain intact the 
power and authority of the Government, as it then 
existed. The abuses of the State were hallowed by 
antiquity, and he trembled when the most simple 
changes were proposed. " Surely he that will not 
apply new remedies must expect new evils." The signs 
of popular discontent were numerous throughout the 
country, and the rumours of insurrections frequent. 
Papers and pamphlets innumerable exposed the evils 



168 A CURE FOR SEDITION. 

under which society was labouring, and periodicals of 
great weight and ability, and men of consummate talent 
and unimpeachable integrity, advocated and rendered 
respectable in the eyes of the world by their advocacy 
the principles of freedom. " The surest way to prevent 
seditions (if the times will bear it) is to take away the 
matter of them ; for if there be fuel prepared, it is hard 
to tell whence the spark shall come that shall set it on 
fire."* Yet so timid was Southey, or, rather, so little 
foresight had he, that he would, had it been in his 
power, have crushed the voice of complaint with the 
violent enactments of legislation, and endeavoured to 
mould the intellect in the systematic trammels of an 
absolute education. 

* Lord Bacon. 



southey's pkospects. 169 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Engagements — His Family — Annual Register — Quarterly Re- 
view — Life of Nelson — Applications from Literary Aspirants 
—James Dusatoy — Vacant Office of the Laureateship filled by 
Southey — Lord Byron — The Carmen Triumphale — Politics 
— Laureate Odes — Don Roderick, the Last of the Goths 
— Southey's Poetry — Wordsworth's — Immortality. 

^Etat. 38-41. 

The period to winch we have arrived was the busiest 
Southey ever knew. The chances of extricating himself 
from periodical writing were becoming fewer arid more 
few, and he felt that it became his duty — no unpleasing 
one, so kindly are we moulded by habit and nature to 
the circumstances in which we are placed — to devote 
himself to that labour which was the most remunerative. 
Perhaps the engagement he held on the " xAnnual 
Register " — an engagement fully consonant with his 
own wishes — might have reconciled him to this course 
of life. It is certain (although he made the two unsuc- 
cessful applications referred to in the last chapter for 



] 70 POWERFUL FETTERS. 

the stewardship of the Greenwich estates and the office 
of historiographer) he would only have accepted a post 
which gave him leisure to study and prosecute his 
opus magnum. This determination fettered his friends, 
— for though they had it in their power to raise him 
above a dependent position had no such reservation 
existed, it was without the range of their influence to 
confer upon him an office that w T ould be little less than 
a sinecure. 

A family, too, was fast springing up around him. 
In the endearment of a son, now six years old, who 
possessed a singularly beautiful and gentle disposition, 
he experienced all that could warm the feelings of a 
father. Perhaps he allowed his affections to be too 
firmly engrossed upon this boy. The manifestation of 
a bright and ready intellect, and an aptitude for study, 
insensibly led him to look with fond hope and fonder 
pride upon the rising future of this youth. His 
acquaintance with many families in the neighbourhood 
of Keswick and in the county had ripened into generous 
and sincere friendships, and powerfully aided in averting 
his mind from other pursuits, and in quietly settling his 
spirit to the course he now unreservedly adopted. The 
precariousness of his income, and a thousand little 
sources of anxiety and annoyance which a disposition 
less influenced by the philosophy of life than his would 
suffer to grow into corroding cares, might, had his mind 
been so disposed, have given him much disquietude ; 



THE " LIFE OF NELSON." 171 

but a reliance upon Providence, and a determination on 
his part to perform his daily duties to the utmost of his 
abilities, preserved in him an habitual and well-regulated 
cheerfulness. 

His engagement with the " Annual Register" had 
now continued nearly three or four years, and been his 
principal source of income. But this, it appears, had 
proved an unfortunate speculation, the proprietors sus- 
taining a loss of not less than one thousand pounds per 
annum. One result of this misfortune was the fre- 
quent irregularities of their remittances to Southey. As 
this delay caused no little embarrassment to his own 
affairs, he was obliged to intimate his intention of 
withdrawing altogether from the concern. In the 
" Quarterly," however, he found a channel through 
which to convey his sentiments to a more numerous as 
well as more influential class of readers, and where he 
could embrace a greater scope and variety of subjects, and 
depend upon a regular and profitable employment. To 
this Review he therefore devoted his best powers, and 
had the satisfaction to find that his reputation rose 
higher from the articles he inserted in it than from his 
previous works either in poetry or prose. 

He was also engaged upon the " Life of Nelson," 
and a new poem, to w r hich he designed to give the title 
of Pelayo, though he eventually changed it for " Don 
Roderick, the last of the Goths." The " Life of Nelson," 



172 EVILS OF AUTHORSHIP. 

which was an enlargement of one of his articles in the 
" Quarterly,"* was not of his own selection. Mr. 
Murray had requested him to undertake the task, and 
he accordingly did so, although it might be reasonably 
thought out of his line. " However," states Southey, 
" I have satisfied myself in the execution far more than 
I could have expected to do." And on another occasion 
he talks of having walked among sea-terms as carefully 
as a cat does among crockery ; of having succeeded in 
making the narrative continuous and clear — the very 
reverse of what it was in the previous Lives, — and 
says that the materials were in themselves so full of 
character, so picturesque, and so sublime, that the book 
could not fail of being a good one. The judgment he 
thus passes upon the " Life" was fully justified by the 
event. Whether the subject insured its success, or the 
style of its execution satisfied the public taste, it proved 
to be one of his most popular works. 

The reputation of authorship not unfrequently 
entails upon a literary man the applications of a nu- 
merous body of youthful aspirants, who are eager to 
mount with a " muse of fire the highest heaven of in- 
vention." They look to the successful and more ex- 
perienced writer for approval, encouragement, and re- 
commendation. The publication of " Kirke White's 
Remains" overwhelmed Southey with the production of 
* No. V. 



YOUNG DUSATOY. 173 

young poets, who forwarded to him the first efforts of 
their kindling minds, and regarded him in the light of a 
foster-father to the offspring of their young muse. The 
verses — good, bad, and indifferent — thus sent to him 
would make a curious collection ; hut there were few to 
whom he could hold out that encouragement they 
sought, and none that he did not warn against falling 
into the Scylla and Charybdis of literary dependence. 
In some instances indications of high talent were per- 
ceivable, and to these he always spoke in the kindest 
spirit of exhortation. Ebenezer Elliott may be men- 
tioned as already alluded to. At this time, however, 
another application, full of promise, was made ; and 
again his sympathies were called into action. 

A youth of seventeen, his name was Dusatoy, the 
son of a retired officer residing at Totness, in the county 
of Devon, enclosed some verses to Southey, with a letter 
inquiring how far the publication of a volume of poems 
would assist him in making his way to the bar, the pro- 
fession to which he was at that time most inclined. 
Southey dissuaded him from throwing himself upon the 
cold judgment of the public, and advised him, if possi- 
ble, to reach the bar through the University. After 
giving him some further sound advice, he expresses his 
readiness to serve him in whatever manner lay within 
his power, and with all sincerity. This offer was ac- 
cepted ; and, Southey having taken some trouble in the 
matter, young Dusatoy was entered at Emmanuel College, 



174 THE LAUKEATESHIP. 

Cambridge, where, in the following year, he was an 
unsuccessful candidate for the English prize, — the 
present Master of Trinity, Dr. Whewell, being the more 
fortunate competitor. He, however, had obtained 
several exhibitions ; a promise of a scholarship as soon 
as a vacancy occurred was also made, and his prospects 
were most bright and auspicious ; but, unfortunately, he 
was seized with the fever which was at the time ravaging 
Cambridge with dreadful malignity, and died shortly 
after. His poems, though giving high proof of a 
capacious intellect and evidence of future strength, were 
considered too immature for publication, especially as 
there was no immediate object, as in the case of William 
Roberts, for printing them. They, therefore, remained 
in the hands of his friends. 

In the September of this year South ey went to 
London, and spent a portion of his time with his uncle, 
Mr. Hill, who had returned from Lisbon in 1808, and 
was now residing at Streatham, of which he was rector. 
Whilst in town he received a letter from Sir Walter, 
apprising him of the death of the late poet-laureate, and 
tendering the vacant office, already proposed for him- 
self, but declined. At the same time Sir Walter hints 
at some of the ridiculous duties of the office, as well as 
the incompetent manner in which the late laureate had 
discharged them ; not without hope, however, of having 
them removed, by the influence of some person in power 
with the Prince Regent. 



AN AWKWAKD COINCIDENCE, 175 

Without hesitation Southey wrote to the Rt. Hon. 
Mr. Croker to express his willingness to undertake the 
duties of the vacant office; but, at the same time, 
made a few specifications as to the terms of his accept- 
ance. He was not disposed to hold the appointment if 
it were incumbent upon him to write to order, as school- 
boys write their themes, at stated times and on stated 
subjects ; but that if it were understood that upon great 
public events he might either write or be silent, as the 
spirit moved, he would accept the office as an honour- 
able distinction, which, under such circumstances, it 
would become. 

It appears that some confusion existed about the 
privilege of appointment to the laureateship. All, how- 
ever, terminated happily, owing to the friendship and 
esteem of the respective persons interested. Southey 
had been advised by Gifford and Bedford, who had 
already been exerting themselves in his behalf, to call 
upon Mr. Croker at the Admiralty. Upon his 'arrival 
he found that Mr. Croker had already spoken to the 
prince, who had expressed his approbation that the 
office should be given to Southey. But shortly after, 
Southey 's patron, meeting Lord Liverpool, discovered 
that the office had already been offered by some of the ca- 
binet to Scott. The prince was displeased at this, and 
was resolved that the laureateship should remain as he 
had disposed of it. The refusal of Sir Walter to accept 



176 SOUTHEY IN LONDON. 

it prevented any further discussion on the subject, 
which might otherwise have been embarrassing.* 

This stay in the metropolis and its vicinity — for his 
head-quarters were at Streatham— was the longest ab- 
sence from home Southey had yet made. It was, how- 
ever, enlivened by the society of his brother, Dr. Henry 
Southey, who had now taken up his residence in Lon- 
don ; of his brother, Lieutenant Southey; and many of 
his old friends, amongst whom, upon this occasion, was 
Sir Humphry Davy, He was also much noticed in 
those circles where literary merit finds a casual patron- 
age. At Lord Holland's he occasionally dined, and 
met the poet Rogers, the orator Sir James Mackintosh, 
and other distinguished personages. At one of these 
reunions he was introduced to Lord Byron, who came 
in during the evening; and, notwithstanding his re- 
marks in the " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," 
they met with all becoming courtesy, and he was 
better pleased with his lordship's person and manner 
than he expected. 

* Sir Walter Scott, on tendering the post to Southey, was 
under the impression that the appointment was worth between 
300/. and 400/. per annum. In a letter to the former, however, 
Southey says that the original salary of the office was 100 merks. 
It was raised for Ben Jonson to 100/., and a tierce of Spanish 
Canary wine, now wickedly commuted for 26/. ; which said sum, 
unlike the Canary, is subject to income-tax, land-tax, and Heaven 
knows what taxes besides. The whole net income is little more 
or less than 90/. 



MUSE AND ETIQUETTE. 177 

Some suggestions with reference to the duties of 
the laureateship had been thrown out previous to S ou- 
tlay's accepting that office, and he had even intimated 
that those reforms were the conditions upon which he 
would receive the honour. He was, however, informed 
that no alteration could be made whilst the vacancy- 
existed ; but that afterwards, " Croker, or some one in 
the prince's confidence, would suggest to him the fit- 
ness of making the reform in an office which required 
some reform to rescue it from the contempt into which 
it had fallen." 

No amendments were, however, made, and whilst 
Southey was expecting them to be introduced, the tram- 
mels of his new/ office made themselves felt. The recent 
downfall of Napoleon, the restitution of the Bourbons, 
and the visit of the Allied Sovereigns, required a national 
commemoration, and he was called upon to produce a 
poem on the event. He soon found, however, that the 
rules and etiquette of place and party were to be 
observed by him. He was made to understand that 
he was not at liberty to pour out the full indignation of 
his sentiments upon the occasion. In his " Carmen 
Triumphal e," a poem intended to celebrate the joy and 
exultation diffused over the whole country by the ter- 
mination of the war, he met with many subjects con- 
genial to his views and feelings, and what was political 
he expressed con amove. But there were limitations. 
He would have denounced in the same poem Napoleon 

N 



178 THE "CARMEN triumphale." 

Bonaparte, " who," in his opinion, " after the murders 
of the Due d'Enghien and Palm — avowed, open, noto- 
rious as they were — was under the ban of humanity." 
It was, however, intimated to him that he wrote in an 
official capacity, that he must not hold up to the con- 
demnation of the world a man — however heinous were 
his crimes, however flagrant his violation of those prin- 
ciples which are the bond and security of society — if 
he were. & friendly power: in fact, that he must train 
his muse to sing the praises of him a minister praises, 
and the exploits of a hero, however apocryphal they 
might be, whom the sovereign would eulogise. " There 
might be an impropriety," suggests his friend Rickman, 
" in some parts of it (the " Carmen Triumphale") ap- 
pearing as the poet-laureate's production." And in a 
letter to his uncle he confesses, — " I spoilt my poem, in 
deference to Rickman s judgment and Croker's advice, 
by cutting out all that related to Bonaparte, and which 
gave strength, purport, and coherence to the whole." 
It is evident from the poem itself, that, whilst in his 
laudation of the achievements of the British army and 
Spanish valour he was sincere, he wrote ill at ease, 
and had a subject he knew not how to handle. He 
was not allowed to remain silent. It was, however, 
one of those occasions when the return of peace and 
the spirit of brotherhood were pure subjects for re- 
joicing, and when the events should have inspired 
generous sentiments and an exalted enthusiasm. But 



THE CATHOLIC QUESTION. ] 79 

Southey condescended to mingle the grovelling politics 
of party, the bigotry of prejudice, and the feelings of 
personal triumph, into his ode ; and instead of making 
it a national and universal paean, worthy the better 
feelings of the hard, and the circumstances that gave 
rise to it, it was rendered disfigured and spiritless, 
— a poem of no note and no acceptance. 

The political sentiments of Southey upon the war 
question, his fears of an alarming outbreak of popular 
violence in this country, and his views upon national 
education, have been already introduced. Upon two 
subjects of considerable importance he thought and felt 
with no less warmth : the Catholic question, which now 
began to agitate the public mind ; and the Manufac- 
turing system, which was rising into importance. On 
the former question he argued with great clearness and 
force. His long residence in Lisbon, his close obser- 
vations of the habits and ceremonies of the ecclesiastics 
in Spain and Portugal, his study of the monkish works, 
led him to regard any concession to the Catholics as 
dangerous to the constitution of Church and State. 
His pen was, accordingly, often eloquently employed in 
exposing the practical errors of Komanism, and the 
tendency of their institutions ; and, with undeviating 
consistency, he opposed the views of the Emancipa- 
tionists. 

He did not regard the system adopted by the 
manufacturers, as it then existed, with any great favour. 



] 80 THE MANUFACTUllING SYSTEM. 

He viewed the proprietors of factories as men who were 
willing to amass immense fortunes at the expenditure 
of the life-blood of the operatives; who neglected the 
comforts and well-being of those under them ; who 
erected and maintained hot-beds of vice and corruption, 
where swarms of ignorant and undisciplined people con- 
gregated ; and who were the cause of the great increase 
of pauperism.* 

Southey's theory of foreign politics — considering 
how firmly he adhered to the established order of 
things, and the exercise of all but an absolute exercise 
of power in the government of this country — appears 
somewhat inconsistent. Whilst the negotiations at Paris 
were still pending, he often expressed his hope that the 
Bourbons would not be restored. The detestable con- 
duct of that house, and their incapacity for government, 
had sufficiently radicalised him against them ; and he 
wisely remarks, that when the expulsion of a reigning 
family takes place from internal causes and not from 
external, restorations are bad things. Southey was, 
also, one of those who expected that Napoleon would 
escape from his little empire in Elba, re-organise his 

* This point was refuted by his friend, J. Kickman. " For 
instance," remarks the latter, " no county is more agricultural 
than Sussex, where twenty-three persons, parents and children, in 
one hundred, receive parish relief; no county to he more re- 
ferred to the manufacturing character than Lancashire, where 
the persons relieved by the parish are seven in one hundred — not 
a third part of the agricultural district." 



FRESH LAUREATE ODES. 181 

veterans, and disturb the public peace. The terms 
upon which this mighty conqueror was treated, accord- 
ingly, appeared to him too lenient for a man who had so 
long warred against the nations of Europe ; and the 
correctness of his anticipations was confirmed by the 
retreat from Ligny, and the carnage of Waterloo. 

" The laureateship will certainly have this effect 
upon me," writes Southey, shortly after his appointment, 
" that it will make me produce more poetry than I 
otherwise should have done ; " and this year seems to 
have been a prolific one in subjects. The anticipated 
marriage of the Princess Charlotte with the Prince of 
Orange suggested a " Carmen Maritale," and the plan of 
the poem, and a large portion of it, had already been com- 
pleted before the nuptials were broken off. The pre- 
sence of the Allied Sovereigns reminded him again of 
the duties of his new office, and with great promptitude 
appeared odes to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, * His Im- 
perial Majesty the Emperor of Russia, and His Majesty 
the King of Prussia, which Southey made a vehicle for 
introducing his political feelings, and turning what 

* In his ode to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales we have the 
following : — 

" At home worse dangers compassed thee, 
"Where shallow counsellors, 
A weak but clamorous crew, 
Pestered the land, and with their clamorous breath 
Poisoned the public ear." 

A poet should write for mankind, not for a faction. 



182 lord byron's praise. 

should have been a lofty and noble theme into a tirade 
of factious sentiments and inapplicable compliments. 

The poem that next appeared, " Roderick, the Last 
of the Goths," did Southey greater justice, and is the 
most easy and regular, most natural and unaffected, 
of all his poetical writings. It contains more pathos, 
more elevated sentiments, fewer quaintnesses, and a 
sweeter eloquence than any other, and may be read and 
re-read with new sensations of delight. It has less of 
that gorgeous imagery with which " Thalaba " is em- 
broidered, or that fearful wonder that excites us in 
the " Curse of Kehama ; " but it approaches nearer the 
reality of life, and the earnestness and simplicity of 
truth. 

Lord Byron, it appears, had upon some occasion 
spoken highly in favour of Southey's poems, and com- 
pared parts of them — so the report reached Southey — 
with similar passages of Milton. The Laureate, however, 
who was not willing to seem more moved by his lord- 
ship's praise than he was by his censure in the " Eng- 
lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers," in a private letter 
reverts to the remarks which Lord Byron had made. 
Upon this he institutes an inquiry — the subject seemed 
to lead to it — into the quality and character of his own 
genius, and also the genius of Wordsworth. It has 
always been a matter of question how far an author is 
capable of judging rightly of the merits of his own 
works. The preference which Milton entertained for 



A COMPARISON. 183 

his " Paradise Regained," and it is said Homer con- 
ceived for trie " Odyssey," are well-known instances of 
this kind, and have long been contradicted by the verdict 
of the world. 

Southey, in writing to his brother, amusingly dis- 
claims all similarity with Milton ; allows that there may 
be fair grounds of comparison with Tasso, with Virgil, 
or with Homer ; and suspects that, after all, Chiabura 
was the writer whom he most resembled in the consti- 
tution of his mind. 

It was a matter of no slight chagrin, however, to 
Southey, that his poems met with so restricted a sale. 
While Scott could command 3000?. for less matter than 
would enrich him with 300?.; whilst Moore could obtain 
3000 guineas for " Lalla Rookh," before a line of it was 
written ; whilst Byron's verse electrified every circle, — 
his epics found but few readers and fewer purchasers. 
But he consoled himself with the idea that he was writ- 
ing for posterity, whilst the reputation of Byron and his 
school was ephemeral. In this Southey thought more 
hopefully than advisedly. The greatest poetical works, 
those which remain to our own day, after the lapse of 
ages, and are destined to exist as long as an exalted and 
enlightened literature exists in the world, have obtained 
immediate popularity ; and it is unnecessary to inquire 
into the cause as long as poet and priest of nature 
are regarded as synonyms. Without inquiring what 
praise or dispraise " the blind old man of Scio's rocky 



184 CONTEMPORARY FAME. 

isle," wandering from city to city, and island to island, 
chaunting his heroic lay, obtained, the names of Sopho- 
cles and Euripides, Virgil and Horace, at once rise 
before us. Their reputation was established " (Ere 
perennius " before their death ; and so sensible were 
they of it, that the last, interpreting the feelings of the 
others, declared that the rewards of the ennobling lay 
should mingle them with the gods, and crown their names 
with immortality.* The muse of Dante, Petrarch, Tasso, 
and Ariosto ; of Shakspeare, Spenser, Jonson, Dryden, 
and Pope ; received the homage due to genius before 
their spirits quitted this nether sphere ; and though 
exceptions have been raised in the case of Milton, it 
may be proved that his is no exception. His " Paradise 
Lost " and " Regained " were poems of a religious cha- 
racter, and appeared at a time when the nation, sur- 
feited with puritanical fanaticism, rushed into the wildest 
extremes of libertinism ;" when, its author being marked 
as the secretary of Cromwell, party-spirit could not be 

* " Exegi monunientiim sere perennius, 

Kegalique situ pyramidum altius ; 

Quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens 

Possit diruere, aut innumerabilis 

Annorum series et fuga temporum. 

Non omnis moriar." — Carmen: lib. iii. Ode 30. 
The judicious favour of Augustus, the generous and dispas- 
sionate praise of Maecenas, and the applause of his appreciating 
countrymen, converted this beautiful song of exultation, which 
might otherwise have been charged with presumptuous vanity, 
into the sublime strains of a conscious and confident genius. 



THE CLAIMS OF MILTON. 185 

tempted to listen to the voice of one who had served 
under the Commonwealth ; and when the infidelity of 
the age weighed heavily against the reception of an 
epic, based upon the mysteries of the Christian faith. 
It appears, however, that within eleven years of its pub- 
lication, the "Paradise Lost" had passed through two 
editions, — that three thousand copies had been sold, — 
that a third was preparing, and that the bookseller even 
then found it expedient to purchase the copyright. We 
have need of no further proof that the reputation of 
Milton was rapidly spreading. 



186 THE CHILD OF DESTINY. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Battle of Waterloo — Public Eejoicings — Visit to the Continent 
— Pilgrimage to Waterloo — Brussels — French History of 
Brazil — Detained at Aix-la-Chapelle — Companions — Ghent 
— Beguinages — Return — Death of his Son — Employments 
— Visits — Owen of Lanark. 

Mtkt. 41-42. 

The intelligence of the victory of the 18th of June had 
just reached England, and the name of Waterloo re- 
sounded throughout the length and breadth of the 
island. 

Those who had watched the progress of Napoleon's 
arms with a dazzled admiration, and regarded this 
" Child of Destiny" as invincible, as well as those who, 
prognosticating the ultimate issue of events, believed 
that no permanent peace could be expected whilst 
Bonaparte commanded the legions of France, now ex- 
pressed the most enthusiastic sentiments of gratulation 
on this fresh and crowning result of British prowess. 
Southey, who could view Napoleon in no other light 



KESWICK AND WATERLOO. 187 

than as the implacable enemy of European tranquillity, 
as a man who was laid under the ban of humanity, and 
instead of being shielded by the glory which a hundred 
battles had wreathed round his name, should be treated 
as a common traitor to mankind, was amongst the most 
joyous upon this triumphant occasion. Looking back 
through the pages of history, he could fix upon no 
nearer epoch than the victory of Charles Martel to 
which to compare the results of this battle, and in the 
overthrow of the Moors by this prince, he imagined that 
he could perceive an achievement in favour of civi- 
lisation similar, if not equal, to the consequences that 
Waterloo would effect. 

The rejoicings upon the occasion were not confined 
to personal or private feelings. The whole country re- 
sounded with the voice of congratulation, and every 
kind of public demonstration was suggested in comme- 
moration of the great event. The vicinity of Keswick 
was not silent ; and Southey took a joyful part in all 
the proceedings which were intended to express the 
gratitude of the Cumberland people. Monday, the 21st 
of August, was appointed for the public celebration of 
that auspicious event. With all the enthusiasm of his 
nature, he entered into the preparations of that tri- 
umphant occasion, and eagerly sought out whatever 
might give a new excitement or more brilliant effect to 
the display of patriotic feeling in his own neighbourhood. 
The romantic Skiddaw was to be the scene and witness 



188 TRIUMPHS AND BONFIRES. 

of their rejoicings. Thither he, his family, a party of 
friends, among whom were Lord and Lady Sunderland, 
Wordsworth, Mr. James Boswell, and several Lakers, 
together with a large assemblage of the people, repaired, 
and on its lofty summit feasted off the genuine symbols 
of English hospitality. Nor were the duties of that 
festive season forgotten. The most loyal toasts, the 
most national sentiments, were pledged and responded 
to in a capacious bowl of punch, and with the heartiest 
cheers. Every heart caught the spirit of the hour, and 
a thousand voices gave life and joyousness to the jubi- 
lee. As the evening drew on, and the shadows of night 
were darkening the landscape, bonfires — huge, substan- 
tial, combustible, that might have served as beacons in 
times of danger and tumult — were lighted, flambeaux 
kindled, and large blazing balls of tow and tar rolled 
down the steep sides of the hill, until the surrounding 
country was illuminated, and the venerable mountain 
appeared like a pyramid of fire. These rejoicings con- 
tinued to a late hour, nor were the flames of national 
revelry extinguished until the rising glow of the East 
" paled the ineffectual fires " of earth. 

No sooner had the gates of the Continent been 
thrown open to the British nation, than many who had 
been prevented, by the hostility of the two nations, 
from visiting France and other countries of Europe, 
hastened over. There were few places to which a new 
and a painful interest had not been given. It was not 



A VISIT TO THE CONTINENT. ] 89 

to observe the manners and customs of the people, to 
learn their language and their politics, to admire works 
of art, or to feast their eyes upon the beauties of 
Nature, that the multitude now flocked over. Their 
steps were directed to spots once inhabited and gay 
with the business and vanities of life, now barren and 
desolate, to scenes of death and triumph, of horror and 
gloiy. Those places which had been signalised by the 
events of a great battle, and consecrated by the blood of 
thousands, became the shrines to which the patriotic 
devotees made a reverential pilgrimage. Ligny, Brus- 
sels, Quatre-Bras, Waterloo, were names treasured up 
in the heart of South ey, and to these spots he deter- 
mined to follow the multitude. 

Having made up a party of his own, he proceeded 
via Ostend to Brussels. At Bruges he was struck with 
the venerableness of that ancient city. Four centuries 
had apparently altered little of its appearance, and it 
stood a monument and a specimen of the age of Frois- 
sart and the Tudors. The neatness of the poorer inha- 
bitants, and the cleanliness of their abodes, left a favour- 
able impression upon his mind, especially when com- 
paring it with Ghent, where the spirit of commerce had 
created a greater inequality, and a prevalence of French 
manners had given an immoral tone to the people. At 
Brussels he found still stronger proof of Parisian in- 
fluence : the new town had assumed altogether the 



190 A FIELD OF BATTLE. 

aspect, and the people the idleness and profligacy, of 
the capital of the Continent. 

When Southey arrived on the plain of Waterloo, the 
fields were cultivated, and wild flowers springing over 
the graves of unnumbered heroes. Peace was striving 
to heal, and cover with a green mantle, the rude scars 
which Nature had received during that terrible shock. 
Yet there were strewn around sufficient vestiges of that 
dreadful event. Caps, cartridges, bullets, boxes, broken 
helmets, &c, gave evidence of the recent conflict, and 
served as a powerful link to the imagination to carry 
it back to the scenes of havoc which War perpetrated 
that day. The perforated walls of La Belle Alliance, 
the ruins of Hougomont, and the desolate appearance 
of Quatre-Bras, told the presence of enemies, the con- 
cussion of nations. 

During the visit, whatever might assist him in the 
progress of his History, or his future literary labours, 
was not overlooked. He purchased a valuable lot of 
books, and bargained for a set of the "Acta Sanctorum." 
He also met with and bought a French "History of 
Brazil," just published by M. Alphonse de Beauchamp, 
in three volumes octavo. The preface, curiously enough, 
stated that, having finished the first two volumes, the 
author thought it advisable to see if any new light had 
been thrown upon the subject by modern writers ; that 
Mr. Southey had published a history lately, but had 



A MODEST PIEACY. 191 

offered no fresh information — in fact, that the English 
work was a compilation from his own ; that Mr. South ey 
had promised much for his second volume, but that the 
hope of literary Europe had again been deceived — no 
second volume making its appearance. Doubtless no 
person regretted this delay more than M. Alphonse 
de Beauchamp himself. Upon examining his work, 
it will be found that the whole of the two first volumes, 
and a third of the other, are copied from Southey's 
recent work; that he had not only used Southey's 
references, but had been guilty of committing errors 
which proved that he was not acquainted with the 
Portuguese language. 

Many were the inconveniences experienced during 
this tour, owing to bad roads, bad conveyances, bad 
accommodation, and bad attendants ; but a circum- 
stance which gave South ey much greater uneasiness 
damped for a while the pleasure of the journey. His 
daughter, Edith May, who accompanied him upon this 
trip, became seriously indisposed ; and they were 
obliged to remain at Aix-la-Chapelle for six days, in 
consequence. This delay, however, excepting the un- 
pleasantness of the cause, was productive of much 
interest. During every day, at the table dliote of the 
inn, he was thrown into the company of officers who had 
served in the late campaigns on the side of the Prus- 
sians. Major Dreski, one of the number, was not only 
communicative, but had been the actor in many " hair- 



192 LA BELLE ALLTANCE. 

breadth 'scapes," that made his narrative still more 
stirring and exciting. He was at Ligny with Blucher 
when the latter fell from his horse, and was ridden over 
by the French cavalry. Another, Major Petry, to whom 
it is said, by his brother-officers, that Blucher was in- 
debted for the battle of Domwitz, was there. A most 
perfect cordiality existed between the whole company. 
The Prussians extolled the character and conduct of the 
British, whilst the latter returned the compliment, 
Southey giving as a toast, " La Belle Alliance : may 
it continue as long as the memory of the battle !" 
which was received with the utmost enthusiasm. But 
the person who excited the deepest interest in Southey 
was a young Pole, whose father held one of the highest 
offices in Poland : his name was Henri de Foster. He 
had enlisted in the Prussian service when a boy ; had 
been taken prisoner by the French, and conducted to 
the frontiers of the empire, where he was cruelly treated. 
From thence he escaped back into Poland, and joined 
the corps of the Duke of Brunswick, to whom he was 
faithfully attached throughout all his clangers and 
struggles. Having afterwards entered the German 
Legion, he engaged in the most fatiguing and harassing 
parts of the Peninsular campaign, from the opening of 
the lines at Torres Yedras to the conclusion of the war. 
He had obtained the rank of Major; but the severe duty 
of an infantry officer had impaired his strength, and his 
constitution was further injured by a fall down a preci- 



HENRI DE FOSTER. 193 

pice in the Pyrenees, so that he was obliged to quit the 
army ; which he did, upon unlimited leave. This was 
congenial society for Southey. Here he could obtain 
from eye-witnesses accounts of those battles and the 
progress of those events in which he had taken so thrill- 
ing an interest at home ; nor were his feelings less height- 
ened to behold the very actors in those dreadful scenes. 
The campaigner of Torres "Vedras, Talavera, Barossa, 
Salamanca, and Thoulouse, was too important a person- 
age to be neglected : a mutual esteem sprang up, and 
the separation took place with warm anticipations of a 
renewal of their meeting. 

There existed formerly in France, and still exists in 
some parts of Germany, an institution, partly secular 
and partly religious, established for the benefit of re- 
duced gentlewomen. In the former country, it was 
called a Chapter of Canonesses ; and in the latter, 
Beguinages, — a term derived from St. Bega, their patron 
saint. They differed in some respects ; not so much, 
however, in the objects of their foundation, as in the rules 
of their order. In the early part of his life, the attention 
of Southey had been called to the consideration of the 
helpless condition of a class of women in England who, 
born to opulence, or an easy position in life, are fre- 
quently reduced by a reverse of fortune, the sudden 
death of a parent, or some other bereavement, to a 
most pitiable and irremediable destitution. Innumer- 
able instances of this kind of poverty in this country 



1 94 THE CHAPTER OF CANONESSES. 

were represented to him ; and his friend, John Rickman, 
who had brought the subject before his notice, proposed 
a plan not dissimilar to the above institutions for re- 
lieving the objects of his sympathy. Southey was 
diverted, however, at the time, from this subject by 
-his tour to Portugal ; and on his return, things of more 
pressing importance occupied his mind. His visit to 
the Continent recalled the circumstance, and he was 
unwilling to leave the country without deriving further 
knowledge concerning this subject. 

The Beguines of Germany* — or rather Brabant and 
Flanders, for to these two provinces are they confined — 
live in enclosed convents. Their principal establish- 
ment is stationed at Ghent ; and to this place Southey 
repaired for his information respecting their order, rules, 
and number. The Beguinage he found situated at one 

* In France, the Chapter of Canonesses was intended for 
the daughters of wealthy and noble families, whose minds were 
too much influenced by the pleasures and gaieties of this life to 
enter upon the solemn and hope-crushing vows of the cloister, 
but for whom the wasted estate of their forefathers was incapable 
of providing a dowry, and whom the pernicious etiquette of the 
ancient regime had taught to despise the hand of a plebeian and 
an inferior. In these unenclosed convents, consisting of hand- 
some houses situated in the midst of neat gardens, and cluster- 
ing round a small chapel, they passed a life devoted partly to 
the world, partly to the contemplation of heavenly things. They 
were under the surveillance of the eldest canoness, and formed 
associations of two or three, who resided together in friendly 
community. 



THE B^GUINAGE. 195 

extremity of the town : it consists of a collection of con- 
tiguous houses of different sizes, with a garden in front, 
and a large brick wall inclosing them around. There 
are a church and a burying-ground within the enclo- 
sure ; and one of the innumerable streams that inter- 
sect the city flows through the Beguinage, affording 
the means of comfort and cleanliness to the community. 
Connected with the institution there is a refectory, where 
the sisters dine in common; but the rules permit them, 
if it should be the desire of any, to have their meals sent 
them to their own chambers. These are small, and 
furnished with every necessary comfort, but no super- 
fluous luxury, every extraordinary expense being con- 
trary to the regulations. As the time of its members 
would be monotonous were there no employments, the 
duties assigned them consist in receiving the sick w T ho 
come to them, supporting and attending to them as long 
as their illness requires. The whole establishment is 
under the protection of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and 
over each door is inscribed the name of some saint whom 
they adopt as a patron. The Beguines number about 
6000, of whom 620 reside at Ghent ; and though they 
are bound by no vows to observe its rules, no instance 
is on record — they tell it with pride — of a Beguine 
deserting from the institution. 

After having examined the establishment and col- 
lected all the information he could, the want of similar 
asylums in England, where those whose minds were so 



196 CONTINUATION OF THE TOUR. 

constituted might retire, forcibly impressed itself upon 
Southey. He lamented that in our alms-houses, poor- 
houses, and hospitals, the absence of religion was fre- 
quently too obvious ; and he felt that it were better that 
a man should die credulous of the presumptuous conso- 
lation of his priest, and pressing a crucifix to his lips, than 
as many expire in this country, without any knowledge of 
whither they are going, or into whose awful presence 
they are about to enter. 

Having visited Maestricht, St. Trou, and Louvaine, 
Southey returned to Brussels, and paid another visit to 
Hougomont and Waterloo. From thence he proceeded 
to Antwerp, and back through Ghent to Calais, at which 
place he embarked for England, and arrived safely at 
Keswick about the first week in December. The im- 
pressions which he had received upon his journey were 
soon turned into verse, and given to the public under 
the title of "A Pilgrimage to Waterloo," in which he de- 
scribes the desolate aspect of the villages that had 
suffered by the hostilities — gives some feeling touches 
of domestic happiness— and draws some familiar pictures 
of the horrors of war and the blessings of peace. 

He was now visited by one of those bereavements 
that most deeply affect the spirit of man. We have 
before spoken of his only son Herbert, — a child who 
possessed a quickness of intellect and a love of study 
which won, with the most partial fondness, his fathers 
heart. It happened in this, as in many other instances 



LOSS OF AN ONLY SON. 197 

of a similar precocity, that a feebleness of body attends 
upon an early strength of mind. Whilst only ten years 
of age a fatal sickness fed upon the health of this fair 
boy, and cut down the promises of future excellence 
which seemed whitening over unto the harvest.* No 
language can portray the anguish that Southey felt 
upon the occasion. He found that he had entwined his 
own happiness too closely around the existence of this 
child. Educated and nurtured by his own hand, Her- 
bert had been his constant companion . Now that he was 
gone everything appeared desolation, or only so many 
tokens to keep alive the remembrance of his loss ; whilst 
the impossibility of wresting his mind from the object of 
its deep affection showed the strength of that passion. In 
vain does the eye linger around the haunts of the de- 
parted, still trusting that he will come — still faithless that 
he is dead — still fondly clinging to the semblance of hope, 
when hope itself is fled. In such a moment, /how im- 
measurably priceless is the light of immortality ! In 
the midst of this cloud of sorrow, whilst the waters of 
affliction are pouring over the soul — when despair is on 
the brink of effacing every thought, every object, every 
desire, but the unutterableness of its grief — a gleam of 
sunshine penetrates this darkness, faint at first, but 
gradually brighter at each return, until it has acquired 
the effulgence of a spiritual day : this gleam is faith — 

* He died on the 17th of April, 1810. 



198 THE " CABMEN NUPTIALE." 

faith in an existence after this — faith that there is a 
place of refuge where the weary are at rest — faith that 
they who love and have loved shall meet again for ever. 

As soon as Southey's frame of mind enabled him to 
recommence his labours, he set to work with extraor- 
dinary vigour, hoping to bury a portion of his grief in 
action. " My mind is closely employed," he now writes, 
" throughout the whole day. I do more in one day 
than I used to do in three." 

One of his daily employments was the " Carmen 
Nuptiale," which had been suspended in consequence of 
the dissolution of the betrothals between the Princess 
Charlotte and the Prince of Orange. A marriage con- 
tract was subsequently entered into between Leopold 
of Saxe-Cobourg and Gotha and the Princess Charlotte, 
and to celebrate these nuptials he determined to con- 
tinue this poem, to which he gave the title of " The Lay 
of the Laureate. " His article on La Vendee, which 
had been delayed by the death of his son, was pressed 
forward, and the second volume of the " History of 
Brazil " continued with equal energy. 

After a short excursion during the early part of the 
autumn of this year — which included a visit to his 
friend Nash at Lowther, and another to Wordsworth — 
Southey was prepared to receive the Lakers, or those 
tourists who, during this season of the year, delight to 
refresh themselves with the pure breath of the moun- 
tains and the picturesque scenery of the lakes. Amongst 



OWEN OF LANARK. 199 

these was Owen of Lanark, — a man whom Southey, 
in his " Colloquies," placed among the triad of bene- 
factors to the human race, — the other two being Clark- 
son and Dr. Bell. With the more practicable part of 
his scheme, especially whatever encouraged education, 
or gave promise of a greater degree of comfort in the 
cottages of the poor, it is evident, from many passages 
in his writings, that Southey strongly sympathised. He 
imagined that both these objects were neglected in the 
manufacturing districts, and that our looms were the 
hot-beds of vice as well as the causes of destitution. 
Half a century has greatly improved the condition of 
the population of these districts ; and the recent regula- 
tions of our commerce have given an impetus to trade, 
and a spirit to progress, which, judiciously directed, can- 
not but lead to the greater stability and prosperity of 
the whole nation. 



200 POLITICAL EXCITEMENT. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



Lord Liverpool — Southey requested to meet the Prime Minister 
— Means of suppressing Sedition — Observations on the 
Moral and Political State of England — Herbert Knowles — 
Academy of Madrid — Eoyal Institution of Amsterdam — Wat 
Tyler — The Times Newspaper — Tour on the Continent — 
Lakers. 

^Stat. 42-44. 



The extraordinary expenses which had been incurred 
during the late wars, the heavy taxation which still 
pressed upon the people, and the depressed state of the 
agricultural and manufacturing interests — which created 
insolvencies in every part of the kingdom — combined to 
render England the theatre of tumultuary meetings, 
the natural attendants on mis-government. The extreme 
parties took advantage of these circumstances to propose 
their doctrines of government, and the classes who had 
so long monopolised power felt themselves in danger. 

In the midst of this confusion Southey received a 
communication, through Grosvenor Bedford, that Lord 
Liverpool desired an interview with him, and for that 



LORD LIVERPOOL AND SOUTHEY. 201 

purpose he was requested immediately to repair to Lon- 
don. It was evident that the Prime Minister wished to 
find some means of inoculating the opinions of Govern- 
ment amongst the people, and thereby secure a sufficient 
power to enable him to carry those measures he thought 
necessary for the tranquillity of the kingdom. To this 
communication Southey answered cautiously, even re- 
luctantly, though we see him intimating that a gagging 
system would be the most probable means of suppressing 
the evils originated " by the incessant corrupting of 
men's minds by the revolutionary, the infidel, the im- 
moral part of the press." It is melancholy to observe a 
literary man, who must have understood all the bless- 
ings of freedom of discussion, wilfully endeavouring to 
deprive a portion of his fellow-citizens, who differed from 
him, of those blessings. 

The apprehension that some great national convul- 
sion was about to disrupt society was, however, exten- 
sively spread at that time ; even the moderate Hickman, 
who had so often combated the high prejudices and fears 
of Southey himself, seemed influenced by these dis- 
agreeable prognostications. Few men have the power 
of seeing into the future ; and this frightened Liberal, 
who thus misrepresented his fellow-citizens, would, per- 
haps, not have been satisfied by the anodyne measure in 
which that agitation resulted. Eickman corresponded 
with Southey on this subject ; and it is curious to see 
two able men exciting in one another what we now know 



202 KEDUCTION OF THE PEINCE's INCOME. 

to have been mere old women's apprehensions. The 
poet and historian, it is true, felt how futile any at- 
tempt to guide or misguide public opinion by the influ- 
ence of a government press would be ; and deplored the 
pass to which things had come, and talked of " looking 
abroad for a place where he might rest his head in 
safety ! " 

The result of Lord Liverpool's communication with 
Southey extended no further, however, than his pre- 
paring " Observations upon the Moral and Political State 
of England," by which he hoped to counteract the 
opinions that were rapidly spreading among, and in- 
flaming the minds of, the people. The Government, to 
appease the spirit of discontent, were compelled to re 
duce the taxation ; ministers and officers of state sub 
mitted to a reduction of their salaries ; the Prince 
Regent himself gave up temporarily the 50,000Z. per 
annum granted for his personal expenses ; special com- 
missions were issued to try those engaged in tumultuous 
proceedings, and summary punishments were inflicted 
upon such of the political enemies of the Government 
as had been provoked into excesses. Thus, by small 
concessions and " strong measures," the Government 
secured its authority ; and Southey fully sympathised 
with them in their violent proceedings against the 
rioters, and became — it must be confessed, with reason 
— still more an object of popular reprobation. 

It is pleasing to turn from the tumult of political 



HERBERT KNOWLES. 203 

strife and apprehension to the quiet precincts of Greta 
Hall, and view Southey in the exercise of his domestic 
duties and the calmer charities of life, for which he was 
alike fitted by nature. Whilst his attention was dis- 
tracted by the disturbed state of his country, he had 
been exerting himself in behalf of an entire stranger, 
but whose position recommended him at once to his 
sympathy. Herbert Knowles w 7 as an orphan youth of 
great promise. When a mere boy, he was placed at 
Richmond School (Yorkshire) by Dr. Andrews, dean of 
Canterbury, and other clergymen, who promised him 
201. a-year, provided his friends and relations could con- 
tribute 30Z. per annum towards his education. It was 
further intended, when he was thoroughly qualified, to 
send him to Cambridge, to give full scope to the de- 
velopement of his abilities. He was scarcely within a 
twelvemonth of the period for his removal when the 
scheme was defeated by the pecuniary embarrassments 
of his relations, who were unable to continue the stipu- 
lated sum. 

Knowles, in this unfortunate dilemma, wrote a poem, 
with the object of publishing it, but previously had it 
transmitted to Southey, with a request that it might be 
dedicated to him. In reply, Southey dissuaded him 
from the step, but endeavoured to make up the deficit 
of the SOI. by subscriptions amongst his own friends, 
readily putting down his own name for 101. per annum. 
His first applications were unsuccessful ; but eventually 



204 HERBERT KNOWLES. 

Mr. Rogers and Lord Spencer afforded equally between 
them the amount required. 

The glad tidings of this success were quickly com- 
municated by Southey to his young protege, who acknow- 
ledged, in a feeling letter, his sentiments of gratitude. 
He, at the same time, modestly declined to accept the 
proffered assistance, if his patrons expected from him 
any extraordinary efforts of study, or that he should 
make any very distinguished figure in the University. 
Feelingly adverting to the consuming energies which 
wasted the frame and constitution of Kirke White, the 
exercise of which was unduly stimulated by injudicious 
persons, who desired to see him enter the arena of 
collegiate competition, he compares the poverty of his 
own attainments with the extent of learning re- 
quisite to obtain academic honours. He adds, too, the 
weakness of his constitution, and concludes : — " Could 
I twine, to gratify my friends, a laurel with a cypress, I 
would not repine ; but to sacrifice the little inward 
peace of mind which the wreck of passion has left be- 
hind, and relinquish every hope of future excellence 
and future usefulness in one wild, unavailing pursuit, 
were indeed a madman's act, and worthy of a madman's 
fate. . . . But I will not be idle." 

However, as it was in the case of Kirke White and 
young Dusatoy, so was it with this youth. The feeble- 
ness of his health proved too great for the activity of his 
mind and requirements of study. Within two months 



ACADEMY OF MADRID. 205 

from the date of his last letter, the mournful intelligence 
of his death was communicated to Southey by the head- 
master of the Richmond School. 

The Academy of Madrid had some time previously 
conferred upon Southey the honour of membership, and 
desired to express thereby the estimation in which they 
held his services to the cause and literature of Spain, 
as well as to testify their admiration of his high literary 
talents. Nor was this an empty honour. It gave 
him the same privileges which the members of the 
Royal House hold and enjoy, and afforded him a 
better access into the national libraries of that coun- 
try, and the manuscripts and archives of the Escu- 
rial, than any foreigner had hitherto possessed. In 
the present year a similar testimony of regard was 
shown him by the Royal Institution of Amsterdam, 
which enrolled him a member of their body. These 
marks of respect, at all times gratifying, were peculiarly 
soothing to his spirit, for they came when he was beset 
on all sides by men who considered him a legitimate 
object of vituperation, and imputed the origin of his 
opinions to mercenary causes. 

We come now to an occurrence that gave Southey 
far greater notoriety than he could otherwise have ex- 
pected to obtain, and enabled his enemies to enjoy a 
temporary triumph over him. In the early part of the 
year 1817 appeared a poem by Robert Southey, Poet- 
laureate, entitled " Wat Tyler," containing highly de- 
mocratic sentiments. 



206 PUBLICATION OF " WAT TYLER." 

The circumstances of this affair are simply stated. 
When in the height of his Pantisocratic schemes, and 
full of Socialist feelings, Southey struck off the above 
poem, the manuscript of which his brother-in-law, 
Robert Lovell, took to London, and placed in the 
hands of Mr. Ridgway, a publisher. When Southey 
visited the metropolis shortly afterwards, he called 
upon this person, whom he found in Newgate, in the 
same apartment with the Rev. Mr. Winterbottom, a 
dissenting minister. It was then, however, agreed that 
"Wat Tyler" should be published anonymously; but 
from some cause the MS. was never printed, and, being 
left in the hands of the publisher, entirely escaped the 
memory of Southey. 

When the surreptitious publication appeared, Southey 
was naturally anxious to reclaim it ; and for that pur- 
pose, with the advice of his friends, applied for an 
injunction. Lord Eldon, however, refused to grant this 
protection, on the plea that " a person cannot recover 
damages upon a work which in its nature is calculated 
to do injury to the public." This decision of the 
court encouraged the venders of this poem to redouble 
their efforts, and not less than 60,000 copies are 
supposed to have been sold during the excitement it 
created. 

To place the matter in its proper light, and to vin- 
dicate his own conduct, Southey wrote to the " Courier" 
a letter, that fully detailed the circumstances of its pro 
duction, and apologised for the liberal sentiments con- 



NO EXPLANATION. 207 

tained in the poem, on the plea that it was a youthful 
production. 

The only variation from the account given by 
Southey, was that communicated by Mr. Forster to Mr. 
Cottle, which appeared in his " Keminiscences of 
Southey and Coleridge." It reiterates the general cir- 
cumstances, and would, if possible, exonerate Mr. Win- 
terbottom from the charge of having been guilty of its 
surreptitious publication. The statement narrates that 
this gentleman being on a visit to some friends at 
Worcester, took the MS. of "Wat Tyler" with him, to 
read for the amusement of the company, who shared in 
the popular feeling of dislike for Southey, in his politi- 
cal character. At this house were two other persons, 
who obtained possession of the manuscript privately, 
and sat up all night transcribing it, without the know- 
ledge of Mr. Winterbottom. Through their hands, we 
are to presume, the copy eventually reached the pub- 
lisher's. This account Mr. Forster declares was given 
him by one of the transcribers. 

It might have been supposed, that when the pro- 
ceedings before the Lord Chancellor had terminated 
the matter would have rested quietly, and been allowed 
to die a natural death ; but the author of the poem of 
it was too conspicuous a personage. The subject 
was twice brought before parliament ; once by Lord 
Brougham, and again by Mr. William Smith, the mem- 
ber for Norwich. The latter came down to the House 



208 MR. ORATOR SMITH. 

with "Wat Tyler" in one hand and a " Quarterly 
Review" in the other. Extracting passages that 
balanced well one against the other, he opened fire 
upon the poet-laureate, and concluded by inquiring of 
the Government why no proceedings had been insti- 
tuted against its author? 

This harangue was replied to by several of Southey's 
friends, and especially by Mr. Wynn, who explained 
the way in which the work was published, and vindi- 
cated the conduct and character of its author. Southey 
w r as further gratified by a letter from Mr. Wilberforce, 
stating that he could not feel satisfied until he had 
informed him that he was not in the House at the 
time that the attack was made upon him, or he would 
not have allowed the occasion to pass without speaking 
a word in his defence. But to the attack Southey 
himself wrote a reply in the "Courier," addressed to 
Mr. William Smith, in which he vindicates himself 
with great warmth, and less calmness and moderation, 
than, perhaps, the dignity of a philosopher required. 

During the controversy about " Wat Tyler," an 
incident occurred which shows how deeply Southey was 
wedded to his present habits, and how entirely repug- 
nant to his feelings was the idea of change. It also 
shows how high a value was set upon the power and 
energy of his writings. This was a proposal to super- 
intend a lucrative literary establishment, in which, if 
he pleased, he might have a property. The emolu- 



A LUCRATIVE OFFER. 209 

ment, it stated, would be considerable ; and trie influ- 
ence which he would possess in the political world 
extensive. This offer he knew to originate in Mr. 
Walter, of the " Times ;" and it was intended that 
Southey should write the leading article for the journal, 
and exercise, perhaps, some general authority over the 
whole paper. The salary would have been 2000Z. 
a-year, with such a share in the profits of the business 
as would have led to an easy and speedy independence. 
This offer was, however, declined. The associations 
which bound Southey to Keswick were too strong, and 
there appeared to be no consideration that could allure 
him from its scenes. 

The habits which Southey had contracted ever since 
his first literary engagements were hostile to his enjoy- 
ment of perfect health, and the intensity with which he 
had lately applied himself to writing, and kept his pen 
incessantly employed, had further debilitated 'his con- 
stitution, and increased symptoms which began to 
alarm his friends. For several months of the year 
there was no society at Keswick which could induce 
him to relax his labours, and the routine he pursued 
w 7 as continual, close, and unbroken. It was therefore 
thought necessary to divert his mind from intercourse 
with books and dead authors, by inducing him to mingle 
with the living mankind. A tour on the Continent was 
accordingly planned, as being likely to supply the most 

p 



210 ALPINE SCENERY. 

striking objects of attraction, and exciting an exercise 
which was equally requisite for his recovery. 

The party which accompanied him consisted of his 
friends, Mr. Senhouse, and Nash the artist. Their 
route lay across France to Switzerland, and from thence 
through Cisalpine Gaul, back again to Switzerland into 
Belgium. 

The early part of this journey through the French 
territory was, with a few exceptions, flat and uninterest- 
ing ; but as the gigantic Alps rose upon his view, all the 
excitement of the poet and the tourist awoke within 
him. At Neufchatel, South ey took up his temporary 
abode in a house upon the shore of the lake. In some 
parts of his journey, especially in his passage over the 
Jura, South ey was reminded so forcibly of scenes in 
Cumberland, that he could easily have imagined himself 
within an hour's walk of his own home. From Neuf- 
chatel, he proceeded to Yverdun, although it was not 
in his direct road, to visit the celebrated Pestalozzi. 
Here he remained long enough to acquire the principal 
features of the new system, and examine the scenery 
around. Lausanne and Ferney were his next stages, — 
shrines which the literary pilgrim could not slightingly 
pass by, — spots beautiful beyond description, memoried 
by names 

" Who sought and found, by dangerous roads, 
A path to perpetuity of fame ; " 



AN OLD FRIEND IN A STRANGE COUNTRY. 211 

where Voltaire and Gibbon composed their most cele- 
brated works. From Geneva, our traveller passed across 
Mount Cenis into Lombardy, but turned aside from 
Chamberry to visit the Convent of the Grand Char- 
treuse, the sublime scenery of which w r as, in his opinion, 
the most splendid of any he had yet seen during his 
tour. Having visited Milan, where, in addition to 
viewing its attractions, he bought some valuable books, 
he went to Como, and was gratified by finding there his 
friend W. S. Landor, with whom he remained three 
days. At Lugano, so delighted was he with the situa- 
tion, the character of the scenery, and the softness of 
the climate, that he felt, were there no other causes of 
exception, it was there he would like to pitch his tent 
for the remainder of his days. Having crossed the 
lake, he entered the Simplon road. A glorious Alpine 
descent brought him into the Valais, the land of goitres 
and cretins, which he found more numerous h£re than 
in the Maurienne. At Martigny a halt was made, in 
order to enable him and his party to cross over to 
Chamouny, where they had a full view of Mont Blanc in 
its most solitary and majestic glory. 

Returning by the Tete i\oir, which they passed on 
their road to Chamouny, and passing by Vevey and 
Lausanne, the travellers rested at Echichens for three 
days ; then they went to Berne, and from thence 
struck into the Oberland, and travelled by land and 
water ten days, slept on the Rhigi, and halted at 



212 GR0SVEN0R BEDFORD AT KESWICK. 

Zurich. They made for home through the Black Forest, 
Frankfort, and Mentz, down the left bank of the Ehine 
to Cologne, and on to Brussels. Here Southey could 
not resist making large purchases of books, and amongst 
others the " Acta Sanctorum." From the capital of 
Belgium to England and Keswick the transit was easy 
and short. 

Upon his return, Southey found the Lakers again 
around him, and he was compelled to continue the 
' ' idleness" which his tour had commenced. Among 
the company who visited the mountains and waters of 
Cumberland this year was his old friend and school- 
fellow Grosvenor Bedford, who made a stay of some 
weeks at Keswick. For a short time his hearth had 
also been enlivened by the presence of John Bickman. 
These friends could seldom make it practicable to reach 
so far as Greta Hall during their annual excursions, 
and this gave to their hurried and occasional visits, when 
they did occur, a peculiar charm, and called into exer- 
cise the warmest feelings of mutual estimation and 
regard. 



A REJECTED OFFER. 213 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Offer of Librarianship of the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh — 
His present Powers, his future Prospects — Birth of a Son — 
Method of Study — History of Brazil — Visit to Scotland — 
John Morgan — Bequest of a Lunatic — Biographical Hoax — 
Life of Wesley — Yisit to Wales — Degree of LL.D. — Literary 
Labours — Shelley — Life of Greorge Fox — Death of Nash 
the Artist — Boderic, dernier Boi des Goths — Death of Miss 
Tyler. 

In the spring of 1818, a situation, with a salary of 
400L per annum, was offered to Southey, which seems at 
first adapted to his previous habits and known' desires. 
This was the office of Librarian to the Advocates' 
Library at Edinburgh, with the labour of making a cata- 
logue alone attached to it. His refusal to accept so ad- 
vantageous a post — a post that in the earlier part of his 
life he would have considered adequate to his largest 
ambition — shows how firmly rooted all his associations 
for Keswick had become. He was also reluctant to 
remove further from his friends ; and the remuneration 
he received for his labours — and there was no lack of 
employment— was as fair as he could expect. 



214 MELANCHOLY APPREHENSIONS. 

But there were times when Southey regarded the 
possibility of a paralysis of his powers, either mental or 
physical, with painful sensibility. The mind is subject 
to as many influences and has as many causes of de- 
rangement as the body, and it was frequently a source 
of wonder as well as of gratitude to him that his intel- 
lectual faculties had preserved their strength unim- 
paired, notwithstanding the extraordinary exertions to 
which they had been applied. When he reflected on 
these subjects his spirit was depressed, and in a letter to 
Grosvenor Bedford he forcibly embodies his feelings and 
apprehensions, and concludes, that if the day had hitherto 
been sufficient for the labour as well as the labour for 
the day, it might not always be so ; and how desirable it 
was to make some permanent provision for the future. 

What Southey then so strongly represented of him- 
self may with equal propriety be applied to all those 
who depend upon literature for their support. The 
apprehension that their intellectual day may not be co- 
existent with the day of life, that mental powers may be 
exhausted before the frame of the body be worn out, 
that they may eventually be stranded upon the rocks of 
destitution, not unfrequently arises in their mind ; and 
it is then that they feel most poignantly how little pro- 
vision has been made by their country for men who have 
devoted their best energies to the advancement of its 
highest interests. 

Another son, his last child, was now born to him. 



" HIST0BY OF BRAZIL." &15 

The memory of his beloved Herbert had never slum- 
bered. Though his spirits had retained their former 
strength, they had lost their buoyancy for ever. The 
intelligence of this event — so strongly was his heart 
with his early favourite — was received by him as one 
conscious of the acquisition of a treasure, but who at 
the same time felt that the capacity of enjoying it was 
gone. After seeing the flower of his earthly hopes cut 
down, he looked forward, he tells Sir Walter, rather 
with dread than hope to such an issue. The gift, how- 
ever, was received with gratitude. 

The third and last volume of his " History of Bra- 
zil" — his opus majus, a work on which he hoped to 
base the remembrance of his name — -was now published. 
It must appear astonishing, if not incredible, how the 
head and hands of one man could accomplish so much 
as the collection of Southey's works evinces that he has 
performed. Not alone epics, poems, and ballads suffi- 
cient to fill volumes, but biographies, histories, innu- 
merable articles, lengthy reviews, with an immense 
accumulation of correspondence, abstracts, and jour- 
nals, testify to his indefatigable assiduity. But the 
true secret is found in a judicious disposition of his 
time and subjects, and the regularity with which he 
applied himself to each. 

Southey had never been higher north than Edin- 
burgh and Ashestiel ; and as the autumn, the season 
for relaxation, had again commenced its course, he de- 



216 A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 

termined upon a more extensive tour through Scotland. 
A strong inducement to the choice of this direction 
might be found in the opportunity it afforded him of 
enjoying the company of his friend John Eickman, 
who, with Mr. Selford, were taking the same route. 

Leaving Edinburgh, which he had previously vi- 
sited, Southey passed by Loch Katrine, Dunkeld, and 
Dundee, along the east coast to Aberdeen. From 
Aberdeen he proceeded to Banff and Inverness, and 
as far north as Fleet Mound, from which might be 
seen the Ord of Caithness. By this road all the lakes 
and mountains of this coast, and some portion of the 
exquisite scenery of Perthshire, were admired. Cross- 
ing from Dingwall to the Western Sea, and taking the 
line of the Caledonian Canal, he came down by the 
wild and stupendous fastnesses of the Highland Hills, 
by Ben Nevis, Fort William, and Loch Awe, across 
Ballachulish Ferry to Inverary and Loch Fyne. Having 
visited Loch Lomond and Glasgow, he returned home, 
after having been absent about seven weeks. Not only 
had he been able to see the greater part of Scotland, 
but he had been able to see it under the most favourable 
auspices, the weather having been throughout remark- 
ably propitious. The journey was rapid, yet Southey 
allowed no opportunity of obtaining information to 
escape him. He took minute notes, and kept a regular 
journal. Health was not the only object he proposed 
to himself in a tour of this kind. He made it subser- 



A CUEIOUS BEQUEST. 217 

vient to higher purposes ; and if he could extract from 
what he observed and learnt matter of utility for his 
future works, and which he hoped would be beneficial 
to mankind, he always felt that a more important duty 
was performed. 

An instance of a reverse of fortune was about this 
time made known to Southey, which excited his warm- 
est sympathy. John Morgan — for that was the name 
of the unfortunate applicant — had been reduced from 
wealth to a most indigent condition, suffering at the 
same time under a stroke of palsy. His wife had ac- 
cepted the situation of mistress of a national school, 
with a salary of 40Z. per annum. To relieve his dis- 
tress, Charles Lamb had agreed to pay 101. el year, and 
Southey readily proposed to add a similar sum as long 
as he lived, and, by calling the attention of his friends 
to the case, create a fund for him still more permanent. 
Southey considered that there was a peculiar' claim to 
his assistance in this instance. The mother of John 
Morgan had shown him repeated acts of kindness in 
his early days, and had often invited him to dinner 
(gratitude forbad him to forget it) when, but for her 
consideration, he must have gone without one. 

A curious bequest was about this time made to Southey 
by a lunatic who had committed suicide — the charge of all 
his papers. The circumstances that led to the assign- 
ment mark not only the sympathy that Southey ex- 
tended to the unfortunate, but how well his compas- 



218 A GRATIFYING NOTICE. 

sionate spirit was known and reposed in. This person 
was but casually acquainted with Southey ; but in the 
year 1819 he wrote two letters, requesting the Lau- 
reate to accept the charge of his papers. Southey, 
from the tone of the letter, imagining that his corre- 
spondent was in the last stage of some fatal disease, 
took an opportunity of infusing into his letter some of 
that consolation which religion at once suggests and 
supplies, for the comfort of the presumed sufferer. 
Hearing nothing further at the time, Southey supposed 
that his last letter had given offence. Such, however, 
was not the case. After the lunatic's decease, the let- 
ter was found preserved amongst his papers ; and the 
commission with which he entrusted Southey suffi- 
ciently explains that no exception had been taken. 

Southey received another gratuitous testimony of 
the estimation in which his services were regarded. 
Lord Bathurst, totally ignorant of the number and ages 
of his children, called upon the Right Hon. Mr. Croker 
to offer, through him, a writership for his son. The 
eldest, had he been living, would have been too young ; 
the other was a mere infant : yet such spontaneous 
offices of consideration were highly gratifying to Southey's 
feelings. 

On the death of the king, which occurred early in 
this year (1820), the press teemed with biographies of 
his late majesty, all of various characters and different 
authority. Amongst those that were first issued, Southey 



A QUESTIONABLE OMTSSTON. 219 

was surprised to find one edition to which his own name 
had been prefixed. The advertisement announced, — 
" The Life of the King, by Robert Southy. Printed in Six- 
penny Numbers, at J. Jones's, Warwick Square." This 
palpable evasion of nominal property Southey repelled 
by a paragraph in the " Westmoreland Gazette," and 
by a letter to Messrs. Longman and Co., who, he wisely 
judged, would know better how to proceed in the busi- 
ness than himself. There was a misprint of his name 
— Southey being spelt Southy — by which the publishers, 
doubtlessly, expected to escape the letter of the law. 
Leaving it in the hands of the " Fathers of the Row," 
he gave himself no further anxiety concerning it. 

The "Life of Wesley" was brought to a close in 
the course of this year, and met with a good reception, 
That a work coming from the hands of a High Church- 
man would meet entirely the approbation of all parties, 
was an anomaly not to be anticipated ; but the popu- 
larity which it has attained evidences the worth of the 
volumes, both with respect to the subject-matter of the 
book, as well as the temper in which it was treated. 
It not only ranks amongst the best of his productions, 
but is regarded as one of the most complete specimens 
of biography in the English language. " It is written 
in too fair a spirit," remarks Southey, " to satisfy any 
set of men." Therefore, we might add, it has been 
written for the world. Where class or party- writing 
prevails, the result must be ephemeral. Mankind re- 



220 AN HONORARY DEGREE. 

fuses to adopt it, and it becomes at last the disin- 
herited. Had Southey but believed in this when he 
wrote his poems, how different, probably, would have 
been their fate ! Those which are most esteemed are 
those which embrace to the largest extent the sym- 
pathies of mankind ; those that are rejected are those 
which were dictated by a spirit of partisanship, — a 
Muse of Discord, in which nature is inverted. 

In the April, May, and June of this year, Southey 
made a tour into Wales, and took up his head-quarters 
at Llangedwin, the country-seat of his friend Wynn. 
One of the guests at Llangedwin was Reginald Heber, 
afterwards the celebrated Missionary Bishop of Cal- 
cutta, with whom he formed an acquaintance which 
was not forgotten on either side, though the vast waters 
of two oceans were soon to roll between them, and a space 
of several thousand miles to interrupt their communi- 
cation. On his return Southey passed through London 
and visited his old friends, made a short stay with his 
uncle at Streatham, and proceeded to Oxford, where 
the honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Law was about 
to be bestowed upon him. This was the highest mark 
of honour which the University had it in their power to 
confer, and the ceremony was performed with the usual 
courtesies and congratulations. He had not been in 
Oxford for six-and- twenty years before, and it may be 
easily imagined that the feelings with which he re- 
visited it were of a very opposite character. Many of 



SHELLEY AND DUELLING. 221 

those friends with whom he had trod its pleasant walks 
were gone to their final resting-place. If he regarded 
himself, he might perceive a great change in his 
thoughts, in his position, and in his prospects. The 
lapse of years could not, he remarks, be a melan- 
choly consideration to one who was looking forward 
for the day which would bring him to a better world. 
And with such feelings, the honours that were awarded 
him seemed little better than vanity. 

It has already been stated, that for some time 
during the year 1812 Shelley had become a resident in 
Keswick, and a frequent visitor at Greta Hall. This 
intimacy had been interrupted by absence, as Shelley 
shortly after left Cumberland for the Continent. On 
South ey's return from London on this occasion, he 
found a letter awaiting him from the young poet, dated 
at Pisa. It intimated that he had been assured by his 
friends that he was the author of some severe 'criticism 
upon him and his poems in the " Quarterly Review-." 
It expressed a perfect consciousness on his own part, 
both from the internal evidence, and what he had known 
of him at Keswick, that the paper was not written by 
Southey ; and then requested a written denial, for the 
satisfaction of his friends, since it was his determination 
to challenge the writer, if he should be a person with 
whom it would not be beneath him to contend. Shelley 
also demanded a reply, as in case of silence he should 
interpret it into a confession of guilt. The article in 



222 THE LIFE OF GEORGE FOX. 

question was not written by Southey, who was, there- 
fore, enabled to comply satisfactorily with the somewhat 
peremptory request of his friend. 

The "Life of Wesley" having met with so favour- 
able a reception, Southey was induced to undertake the 
" Life of George Fox," and had already commenced 
collecting his materials, It was intended to embrace a 
summary view of the religious and irreligious dissen- 
sions in England, from the rise of the Lollards to the 
origin of Quakerism, as well as to give a comparative 
survey of society now and at that early period. Al- 
though much progress was made, and the plan of the 
work arranged, it was never completed, owing to the 
pressure of other engagements, which continually in- 
creased upon him, until his mental faculties had become 
exhausted and the lamp of the mind entirely burnt 
out. 

Towards the close of 1820 died the friend and fellow- 
traveller of Southey — Nash the artist. Their acquaint- 
ance commenced in Belgium in 1815, and from that time 
he was a familiar household guest, during the summer 
months, at Greta Hall, and a favourite both with young 
and old. He formed one of the party on the pilgrimage 
to Waterloo, and subsequently accompanied Southey on 
his tour through Switzerland and the North of Italy. 
His leisure was employed in taking sketches of the most 
striking and interesting portions of their journey ; and 
it is to his pencil that we are indebted for the views of 



HOW LIVES ABE GOT UP. 223 

Hougomont, Ligny, Les Quatre Bras, &c, that illustrate 
the poet's " Pilgrimage." For him, and his fellow- 
artist, Westall, who was also a frequent guest and 
familiar friend at Keswick, Southey entertained the 
most sincere regard. 

The new year was scarcely opened when Southey 
was flattered by the presentation of a volume entitled 
" Roderic, dernier Roi des Goths : poeme, tradui de 
T Anglais de Robert Southey, Esq., poete-laureate, par 
M. le Chevalier ," printed at Versailles, and pub- 
lished in Paris by Galignani. Madame St. -Anne 
Holmes, a lady of large fortune, and who had been 
intimate with the great Sheridan, between whom and 
Southey a slight literary correspondence had taken place, 
had persuaded M. le Chevalier de Sagne to undertake 
the translation of it. But the matter did not rest here. 
A letter accompanied the parcel, detailing the origin of 
a life of Southey, which prefaced the work, and apolo- 
gising for any omissions or misrepresentations that 
might occur. This letter communicated, after an apo- 
logy, that the printer and publisher, M. Le Bell, of the 
Royal Printing-office, Versailles, would not consent to the 
publication of the translation without a life of the author, 
since the French must be interested in a writer before 
they will read his works. It further stated that the 
publishers became so importunate that Madame St. 
Holmes was obliged to send to London for all the lives 
of the poet-laureate that had been published ; and by 



224 DEATH OF MISS TYLER. 

these, and as well as assisted by remembering some 
anecdotes which she had heard from her friend R B. 
Sheridan, they had managed to compile a biographical 
notice. This notice, which was thus compounded, had, 
according to Southey's testimony, scarcely a single 
point of accuracy, and not a few that were ridiculously 
false.* 

Miss Tyler, who formed so important a feature in 
Southey's early career, now died, in her eighty-second 
year, and was buried in the burial-place of her ancestors, 
in the Vale of Ashton, where the father, brothers, and 
sisters of Southey also slept. It is melancholy to 
reflect, that the aunt and the nephew had never met 
since that eventful night when the latter was turned 
adrift upon the world by the fury of her pitiless temper. 
The estrangement had continued for nearly thirty years ; 
and looking back upon her conduct after this lapse of 
time, Southey felt that his affection for her had been 
long and justly cancelled. 

* The following reply, taken down verbatim, brought Ma- 
dame St. Holmes to terms. The publisher writes, in answer to 
her declaration that she knew nothing of Dr. Southey's life : — 
" N'importe ! icrivez toujour*! brodez, brodez ! — la un pen que ce 
soit vrai ou non, ce ne fait rien ; qui prendra la peine de s'informe?" 



DEATH OF GEORGE III. 225 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Death of George III. — Vision of Judgment — The Critics — Ame- 
rica — Mr. Ticknor — American Literature — Book of the 
Church — Dr. Channing — Eev. G. Benson — Gifford — Do- 
mestic Expenses — Visit to London — Charles Lamh and the 
Quarterly Review — Criticism and Bemarks on "Elia" — 
Rowland Hill — Present of a Bible — Journey to the West — 
Wesleyan Methodism and Church Government — Morning 
Chronicle, Southey, and Mr. H. Taylor — The Book of the 
Church and the Romanists — Testimonies in its favour — 
Vindiciae Ecclesiae Anglicanae. 

JEtat. 47-51. 

On the 29th of January, 1820, at the venerable age of 
eighty-two, died George III., a prince whose virtues 
have been as needlessly exalted by one party as his 
faults and failings have been exaggerated by the other. 
So steadily had the infirmities of time been creeping 
upon him, and so perceptible were the stages of his; 
dissolution, that the death of the king had been antici- 
pated as a probable and speedy event, and the mind of 
the nation prepared for the occurrence. Southey, par- 
ticipating in the general expectation, had been engaged 

Q 



226 THE " VISION OF JUDGMENT." 

for some time previously upon an elegy, or monody, in 
commemoration of the occasion, and now gave himself 
up vigorously to its completion. The plan of the poem 
was adopted from Dante, and the metre was borrowed 
from the Latin hexameter, — a metre well known to 
classical students, but seldom attempted in the English 
language. In fact, wherever the attempt has been 
made, it. has always proved a failure;* for, however 
natural the feelings expressed— however rich the ima- 
gery employed — however chaste the diction — however 
pure and exalted the sentiments — however effective the 
positions — the poem has always suffered from the me- 
trical fetters by which it is constrained, and their in- 
adaptability to the genius of the English language. 

The subject chosen by Southey for his new poem 
was the apotheosis, or ascension into heaven, of the late 
king. A subject more # presumptuous or irreverent it is 
difficult to conceive. Nor did the manner of its execu- 
tion relieve the daring of the undertaking. Its com-, 
position evinced a gross defect in delicacy of taste and 
feeling. The circumstances of our future condition are 
wisely hidden from our knowledge, or only sufficiently 

* I wish I could exempt Longfellow's " Acadie " from this 
imputation; but beautiful as are his pictures, touching as his 
pathos is, he has accomplished nothing more in his hexameters 
than giving us the opportunity of saying that he has done a 
bad thing well. The " Vision of Judgment," also, should rank 
high as far as the execution of the metre is concerned, but 
what is it? 



BYEON AND THE SATANIC SCHOOL. 227 

revealed — and that in general terms — that we may press 
forward with patience and hope to the prize of our high 
calling. Southey, however, on this occasion, enters 
boldly into the arena of the courts of heaven, arraigns: 
before its bar all the political offenders of the previous 
century, and fearlessly condemns or rewards them ac- 
cording as their opinions coincide with his private 
judgment or not. In language little temperate, he 
paints the confusion of his adversaries, and seems to 
enjoy an indecent pleasure in their imaginary con- 
sternation. 

The appearance of the " Vision of Judgment " was 
not only the signal for hostile critics " to lay on," but 
it was an occasion of regret to the most attached and 
best of his friends. He had determinately made it a 
political composition; and his aim and purpose was to 
lash his opponents, and " pay them back in kind " some 
of the abuse they had lavished upon him. The appel- 
lation of " Satanic School/' which he applied to those 
who formed their style on that of Byron, offended them as 
far as the wit of man could devise, and perpetuated the 
enmity which had already existed so long between them. 

Southey foreknew the bitterness of feeling this poem 
would create against him, and, in a spirit of unworthy 
exultation, writes: — " What a grand bespattering of 
abuse I shall have when the 'Vision' appears ! Your 
walk at the proclamation was but a type of it — only that 
I am booted, and coated, and- of more convenient stature 



%28 southey's views on America. 

for the service. Pelt away, my boys! pelt away! If 
you were not busy at that work, you would be about 
something more mischievous. Abusing me is like flog- 
ging a whipping-post!" 

Whatever political errors Southey may have enter- 
tained — and I have not been partial to conceal them — • 
it is also certain that much was attributed to him of 
which he was perfectly innocent. Whenever a more 
severe or cutting article than usual appeared in the 
" Quarterly Review," it was at once set down as the 
production of his pen, whatever might be the subject, or 
whatever line of policy it recommended for adoption. 
By this means many false doctrines were attributed to 
him, many unjust critiques, and in many instances, 
opinions the very reverse to those he was known by his 
friends to hold. Thus his views of the American Re- 
public were never understood ; nor the admiration with 
which he regarded their noble struggles, and the energy 
with which they carried their name and their commerce 
to every quarter of the globe. Many papers which had 
appeared in the " Quarterly Review," manifesting an 
unfriendly feeling towards the people of the United 
States, were thus appropriated to him ; and the trans- 
atlantic world was led into erroneous opinions respecting 
his feelings towards them. Notwithstanding this, 
Greta Hall received many an American who, in the 
course of his travels through England, could not resist 
making a pilgrimage to the Poet of Keswick. Upon 



THE LITERATURE OF AMERICA. 229 

these visitors Southey endeavoured to impress the in- 
justice of such opinions respecting himself, and showed 
them every attention during their short stay. One -of 
these travellers, a Mr. Ticknor, of Boston, and one of 
the most literary of his American visitors, now became 
his correspondent ; and in the course of that corre- 
spondence he takes occasion to remark how desirous he 
was that the only two nations of the world who really 
were free, and had grown up in freedom, should be 
united by mutual respect and kindly feelings, as well as 
by kindred, common faith, and the indissoluble bond of 
language. 

It has been stated, and pretty freely, that America 
possesses as yet no literature of her own ; and this 
assertion, when made generally, must be admitted, 
though there have been some brilliant exceptions within 
the last few years. The reason is obvious. The atten- 
tion of the American people has hitherto been too 
forcibly drawn to the cares of their government, the 
consolidation of their power, the extension of their 
commerce. The study of the arts and sciences never 
takes place in a nation until after a certain stage of 
its progress. The impulse, the leisure, and the capital 
are wanting. Under these circumstances it wdll be 
seen, that the views of Southey upon the literary con- 
dition of America were more liberal than many of 
those in advance of himself in liberal opinions in his 
own day. 



230 VISIT OF ,DE. CHANNIKG. 

The next works of any importance upon which 
Southey was engaged, were his " Book of the Church" 
and the " History of the War." As these were pur- 
posely written to express his peculiar views upon those 
subjects, and he was determined to press them with all 
the boldness of language he was master of, he natu- 
rally expected a bitter opposition from his political 
adversaries. It was about this time, too, that Mr, 
GifTord, having some thoughts of retiring from the 
editorship of the " Quarterly," made an offer of that 
post to Southey. This, however, he declined. In a 
pecuniary point of view, he did not feel that he should 
be benefitted. He was also too closely w r edded to the 
retreat of Keswick, to be induced to leave it without 
some extraordinary necessity pressing upon him. Yet 
his financial position was by no means satisfactory to 
him. The proceeds of a new book were generally 
swallowed up before the work appeared. His annual 
expenditure he estimated at 600Z., and his only stated 
receipts were 200Z., which came from Messrs. Longman. 
What he derived from the Exchequer was devoted to 
his insurances; and the deficit had to be made up by 
dint of hard labour. 

In the course of the summer of 1822 Southey re- 
ceived a visit from the celebrated Dr. Channing, and 
so much was he taken with his urbanity and talents, 
that he gave him a letter of introduction to the Rev. 
Christopher Benson, late Master of the Temple, to 



LITERARY BROTHERHOOD. 231 

whom he was But partially known. This circumstance 
indicates how strongly he felt the brotherhood of genius, 
and that its intercourse ought not to he interrupted 
by those forms of etiquette which regulate the inter- 
course of society in general. 

Towards the close of the year 1823, Southey visited 
London, and during his sojourn there an incident 
occurred that, perhaps, more than any other in the 
course of his long life, served to exemplify the generous 
character of his disposition. For many years — in fact, 
as far back as 1797 — -a close intimacy had existed be- 
tween him and Charles Lamb. Their correspondence 
was not frequent. The distance that separated their 
homes interrupted their familiar intercourse, yet their 
friendship was warm and their meetings mutually 
gratifying. 

On several occasions the "Quarterly" had spoken 
disparagingly of Lamb's literary productions, and taken 
the unwarrantable license of personality, even insinua- 
ting that the " Confessions of a Drunkard " was a genuine 
description of the state of the writer. About the same 
time also appeared in the same Review a notice from 
the pen of Southey, of his " Essays upon Elia," in which 
the former remarked, that it was a booh which only 
wanted a sounder religious feeling to be as delightful as it 
was original; an expression which Southey felt to be too 
severe, and intended to alter in the proof-sheets, which, 
by one of those casualties that frequently occurred to 



232 CHARLES LAMB AND THE " QUARTERLY." 

him under Gifford's management, lie had not the oppor- 
tunity of doing, the proofs not being sent. Irritated by 
the previous imputations that had been cast upon his 
character, Lamb hastily sent a letter to the " London 
Magazine," October 1823, addressed to his old friend, 
and inveighing bitterly against the " want of religious 
feeling" imputed to him in his "Essays on Elia." 
He brought forward, as a quid pro quo, the familiar 
manner in which Southey introduced diablerie into his 
poetry. " The Old Woman of Berkeley," " The Devil's 
Walk." and others of a similar description, were not 
inaptly alluded to, to add weight to the censure, which 
he was willing should be felt, that an equal deficiency 
of religious feeling might be attributed to the author 
of such poems. 

On Southey 's arrival in London, a number of the 
magazine containing this review was put into his 
hand, and greatly was he grieved and surprised at its 
contents. Had Charles Lamb written to him and com- 
plained privately of the wrong done him in the " Quar- 
terly," or taken a less premature step than that into 
which he was unwittingly seduced, the mist would have 
been cleared away, and himself spared the infliction of 
self-reproach. Knowing, however, the genuineness of 
Lamb s feelings, and that he must have been labouring 
under some delusion, Southey overlooked all the per- 
sonal allusions contained in the letter, and immediately 
wrote an explanation. 






A GENUINE RECONCILIATION. 233 

He was not mistaken. Lamb felt deeply the irrita- 
bility to which he had given way, wrote an immediate 
reply, and after alluding to the causes of his anger 
— the injury which the imputations upon his character 
might inflict upon him, as he was situated in a public 
office, — continued : "I wish both * Magazine ' and 
1 Review ' at the bottom of the sea. I shall be ashamed 
to see you (Southey had fixed a day for visiting his old 
friend), and my sister (though innocent) will be still 
more so, for this folly was done without her knowledge, 
and has made her uneasy ever since. My guardian 
angel was absent at the time." It is needless to say 
that a perfect reconciliation took place, and that their 
friendship was but the more firmly cemented after its 
extraordinary ordeal. 

During this stay in London, Southey heard Rowland 
Hill, whose manner he describes as being animated and 
striking, sometimes impressive and dignified/ always 
remarkable ; and as the new year had opened he sent, 
as a memorial of the event, a Bible to his daughter, with 
a letter expressive of the hope that she would adopt the 
custom of reading, morning and evening, the proper 
Psalms and lessons of the day — not as a necessary and 
burthensome observance, binding in spite of every in- 
terruption, but as a rule which she would one day feel- 
ingly understand to be highly beneficial. 

Southey, on leaving London, pursued his journey 
into the West; and having visited his aged aunt, the 



234 THE " BOOK OF THE CHUKCH." 

sole survivor of his father's family, at Taunton, and the 
Rev. Mr. Lightfoot at Crediton, he returned to Keswick 
early in 1824. 

The " Book of the Church," a work in which Southey 
endeavoured to delineate the origin and developement 
of Christianity in England, and the establishment of 
our national institution of worship, had appeared, and 
congratulations upon the style and value of the book 
poured in upon him from several high quarters. The 
late Dr. Howley, then bishop of London, expressed his 
sense of its usefulness, and only regretted that its form 
prohibited it from being more widely extended. The 
Bishop of Durham expressed similar sentiments, but 
would have been better pleased had the work contained 
references to its authorities. But Southey excused him- 
self on this point by stating, that when he first com- 
menced the book it was intended for the use of schools ; 
that, even when enlarged, it w T as a mere epitome ; and 
that, under these circumstances, a display of authorities 
would have been out of place. 

In the " Life of Wesley," which was generally ad- 
mired, Southey had expressed a hope that it was not be- 
yond the bounds of reason to expect that that numerous 
body, or the more moderate portion of it, might again 
be brought within the pale of the Establishment; and 
this idea was, on the part of some of the Wesleyans, 
reciprocated. It was evident to many of the reflecting 
minds amongst them, that the Wesleyism of John Wes- 



MODERN WESLEYJSM. 235 

ley and the Wesleyism of that period were very dissi- 
milar. The people, who had performed many important 
functions in the administration of their church affairs 
according to the primitive system, had been excluded 
under modern arrangements. Their influence was there- 
fore diminished, whilst the powers of their ministers 
had been much enlarged and become almost absolute. 
This state of things had caused a separation in that 
body; and Mr. Mark Robinson, reflecting upon this 
position, and especially the secession from their own 
body which had taken place in Ireland, wrote to Dr. 
Southey, communicating his desire, and that of many 
of those with whom he was associated, to put themselves 
under the direction of the Church of England, under 
the denomination of Church-Methodists, if some mutual 
arrangement could be made. A copy of this letter 
Southey forwarded to Dr. Howley, who, after explaining 
the difficulties of such -an arrangement being /immedi- 
ately entered into in this country, continued : — " I am 
not, however, without hopes that in certain situations, 
more especially in parts of the colonies, a union of pur- 
pose and action may silently take place, which, under 
discreet management, would be productive of much 
advantage to the one great cause ; but this must be 
effected by a prudent use of opportunities, and not, I 
think, by formal treaty." The subject upon this, with 
the exception of an occasional communication with 
Mr. Mark Robinson, and a reference to it in the " Col- 



236 AN UNJUST ATTACK. 

loquies of Sir T. More," which gave it for the time a 
temporary impetus, was allowed to remain quiescent. 

About this time a severe and unjust attack having 
appeared in the " Morning Chronicle" upon him, 
Southey thought that the ends of public and private 
justice would be more fully attained by prosecuting 
that paper for libel. Southey had always been averse 
to the liberty (he would call it licentiousness) of the 
press ; and he conceived that on this occasion it had so 
far outstripped the bounds of propriety, that he might 
punish it for an abuse of its power. His legal friends, 
however, in whose control he rested the whole matter, 
advised him rather to allow the subject to drop, owing 
to the uncertainty of procuring a verdict. It may be 
presumed that this was as much in consequence of the 
comparisons that might be drawn with his own virulent 
productions, as from the surfeit of cases which the " Six 
Articles" of Castlereagh caused both to judge and jury. 
However, Mr. Henry Taylor, in the true spirit of 
friendship, took up his pen, and promptly replied, in a 
spirited and satisfactory letter, to the charges brought 
against him. 

The favourable reception which the " Book of the 
Church" met with amongst the real friends and sup- 
porters of the Establishment, has already been alluded 
to. The obvious attack made in it upon the Roman 
faith and superstition roused the indignation of that 
church, which did not scruple of accusing the author of 



"VINDICLE ECCLESLE ANGLICANS." 237 

falsifying history and misrepresenting its religion — 
an easy expedient. Amongst those who came forward 
with the fairest show of refuting it was Mr. Butler; 
and such was the insidious effect of his book, that 
Dr. Howley wrote to Southey to inquire if he intended 
to answer it, as it would be necessary to seek some 
person of ability to do so, the statements made in Mr. 
Butler's book having imposed upon some persons who 
ought to have known better. Upon this announcement 
Southey set himself diligently to work to prepare his 
" Vindiciae Ecclesiae Anglicanse, the Book of the 
Church, vindicated and amplified; " in which his object 
was to attack the enemy " along the whole of his 
line." 

Whilst engaged in this work he was disappointed 
to hear that his friend, the Rev. William Lisle Bowles, 
had desisted from the publication of some observations 
upon Mr. Butler's book, which he had begun ; upon the 
intelligence that Southey was about to defend himself. 
The latter, however, urged him to resume his labour, 
upon the ground that " every answer would have a 
circle, within which no* other could act with equal 
effect." Dr. Phillpotts, now Bishop of Exeter, was one 
of those who had undertaken to vindicate the " Book of 
the Church/' He felt the necessity there existed of 
answering, in a detailed confutation, some of Mr. But- 
ler's statements, of exposing the doctrine of his church, 
and revealing it in its true colours. This was more 



238 DR. PHILLPOTTS VEESUS ROME. 

especially a duty lie considered due to the Church of 
England and the Protestants generally, since there had 
appeared so many different mis-statements, and apolo- 
gies, and extenuations of the teaching of that com- 
munion. 



A TBIP TO HOLLAND. 239 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Journey to Holland and Belgium — Brussels — Antwerp — Is 
laid up at Ley den — Mr. Bilderjik — Lowland Hospitality — The 
Hague — Return to England — Literary Labours — A Second 
Visit to Holland — Death of his youngest Daughter — Is 
elected to sit in Parliament for the Borough of Downton — 
Garrick Papers — Foreign Quarterly — Visit to his Uncle — 
Engagements in London. 

^Etat. 51-55. 

To recruit his health, as "well as to obtain some mo- 
nastic works, which he felt it would be hopeless to 
search for in England, Southey determined upon a 
tour through Holland ; nor was he less allured by the 
peculiar features of the country, and the historical 
associations connected with it. He knew, that instead 
of climbing mountains he would have to ascend church 
towers, and anticipated great delight from the pano- 
rama to be viewed from the summit of the steeple of' 
Haarlem. 
. Having made his arrangements, he started from 



240 SOUTHEY AT BKUSSELS. 

London, in company with Mr. Henry Taylor, Mr. 
Neville White, and Mr. Arthur Malet, a young officer, 
by way of Dover, to Boulogne. From this city 
he directed his route to Brussels, and again crossed 
the memorable field of Waterloo. The memory of 
his former visit to that immortal spot came over him 
with a melancholy shadow. One who had been his 
companion upon that tour, Nash, the author of the 
sketches illustrative of his pilgrimage to Waterloo, was 
dead ; another one, whose spirit had silently accom- 
panied him during that long absence from home, and 
for whom it was his most pleasurable delight to collect 
some frail memorial of that fiery struggle — Herbert, 
his first and then only son, had gone, in the light and 
brilliancy of intellectual childhood, leaving him a be- 
reaved heart. The momentary recurrence of the un- 
blighted feelings which he then enjoyed, seemed only 
to show him how deep was his solitude; but after a 
short and painful indulgence of these memories he 
brushed them from his heart, and resumed his journey 
with his wonted cheerfulness. 

While at Brussels he visited Verbeyist, the cele- 
brated bookseller, from whom, in the year 1817, he, 
had purchased the " Acta Sanctorum," and whom he 
found to be in a flourishing way of business. But this 
tour seemed destined to be diversified by manifold acci- 
dents. Previous to leaving England Southey had met 
with a slight injury upon the foot, the result of a tight 



AN AGKEEABLE DISTEESS. 241 

shoe. This incipient wound had become much in- 
flamed by travelling during the hot weather ; and at 
Bouchain it began to assume a serious appearance, 
having been bitten by one of those insects which too 
frequently disturb our midnight repose, and shall for 
the present be nameless. At Antwerp he was confined 
a prisoner to the house, but after a few days was 
enabled to proceed as far as Leyden, where he was 
again obliged to put himself under the surgeon's hand. 
So severe was the attack, that he endured more from 
that trifling cause in one week, than he remembered to 
have done during the whole of his previous life. 

His position was, apparently, an unfortunate one ; 
but productive, in reality, of far pleasanter conse- 
quences than might have been anticipated, by forcing 
him to become the recipient of one of those disin- 
terested acts of kindness, which, while shedding respect 
upon the brow of genius, adorn that of humanity. The 
principal inducement Southey had held out for himself 
in visiting Leyden, was to introduce himself to Mr. 
Bilderjik and his wife, a poetess of great ability in her 
own country, and who had undertaken, and faithfully 
executed, the translation of the " Boderick, or the 
Last of the Goths." Upon his applying to them to 
procure -lodgings during his detention they proposed 
their own home, and fortified the offer with such kind 
urgency and argument, that Southey, though reluctant, 
was compelled to comply. There he resided an invalid 

B 



24*2 ME. AND MES. B1LDEEJIK. 

upwards of three weeks, and received from the hos- 
pitality of his friend every attention that a warm 
heart and an admiration of his abilities could prompt, 
seconded most assiduously by a no less cordial and hos- 
pitable hostess. Of course this untoward circumstance 
broke up the travelling party, as it was uncertain how 
long the patient might be indisposed. 

Accordingly Mr. Neville White and Mr. Malet pur- 
sued their own course towards Ghent, whilst Mr. Henry 
Taylor remained behind, to perform the faithful office of 
watching over the recovery and future movements of 
Southey. 

This accident, however it may have caused a mo- 
mentary disappointment and derangement of his plans, 
was, in fact, the means of introducing him to a more 
intimate acquaintance with his kind friends. He 
found them both, from heart and understanding, highly 
capable of contributing to his amusement. The man- 
ners as well as the conversation of Mr. Bilderjik w r ere 
animated and engaging. He possessed a fund of 
original and interesting anecdote, and the language 
which he used — a mixture of Dutch and English — was 
drolly entertaining ; and so feminine and domestic 
were the virtues of Mrs. Bilderjik, that Southey ex- 
presses his surprise that a person of such quiet and 
retiring habits should have been so successful an 
authoress. 

In his new retreat, if we may so call it, Southey had 



DUTCH MEALS. 243 

many opportunities of studying Dutch habits and man- 
ners, and many a curious after-picture presented itself. 
The breakfast to which he was invited, but of which, pre- 
ferring bread and milk, he did not always partake, was 
punctually ready at eight, and consisted of coffee, cheese, 
butter, bread, &c. There were two sorts of cheese; 
one of which, the Leyden cheese, strong and highly 
flavoured with cinnamon and cloves, was laid between 
slices of bread and butter, and so eaten. About an 
hour before dinner he was regaled with a small tumbler 
of liquor, according to the custom of the country, to 
create an appetite. When that important meal arrived, 
he was in every respect prepared to eat whatever was 
placed before him, though the admixture of spices in 
everything cooked at first checked his assaults. Stewed 
apples, highly spiced and sweet, with roast fowl, and 
quinces with ragouts, were a novelty to him. After 
dinner, coffee, an hour's rest, and supper at nine o'clock, 
completed the arrangements of the day as long as he 
could not move about. 

As soon, however, as Southey was sufficiently re- 
covered, he took, in company with his kind friend, short 
trips into the country. On one occasion he visited the 
Hague with Henry Taylor ; inspected the Museum ; 
called on one of his Dutch curmudgeons, an improvi- 
satore poet, Mr. De Clerk; on another he settled his 
business with the bookseller ; on a third he takes what 
Mr. Bilderjik pleasantly called a "walk" in the car- 



244 A FKIENDLY ADIEU. 

riage ; and on a fourth, drinks beer in a village which 
appears to be a place of rustic retreat for the fatigued 
and dust-soiled citizens of Leyden. When he left 
mutual regrets were expressed, nor were his host and 
hostess content to part with him until they had accom- 
panied him in the trekschuil on his way to Haarlem. 
From Haarlem he proceeded to Amsterdam, from 
thence to England, which he reached after an absence 
of several weeks, in the beginning of August 1825. 

On his return to Keswick, South ey again applied 
himself vigorously to his " Yindicise Ecclesise Angli- 
canae." The books which he had purchased in Hol- 
land were admirably adapted for his purpose. The rest 
of the year passed away in its usual manner — in receiving 
occasional visits from friends and tourists, diving into 
the recesses of ponderous volumes, or reviewing for the 
" Quarterly." When the summer returned and brought 
back with it the season of recreation, he again made a 
tour through Holland, this time accompanied by Mr. 
Henry Taylor and Mr. Eickman, and visited his hospi- 
table friends at Leyden. 

On his return home, however, his glad welcome was 
turned into mourning. His youngest daughter had been 
since his absence laid upon a bed of sickness, and those 
who came to greet his return, came also to conduct him 
to the abode of gloom and apprehension. 

"Well do I, though a child," writes his son, in 
editing his fathers "Life and Correspondence, " "re- 



SOUTHEY RETURNED TO PARLIAMENT. 245 

member that return, as we hastened to meet him, and 
changed, by our sorrowful tidings, his cheerful smiles 
and glad welcome to tears and sadness. It was the 
first time I had seen sorrow enter that happy home, 
and those days of alternate hope and fear, when he 
paced the garden in uncontrollable anguish, and ga- 
thered us around him to prayer when all was over, are 
vividly impressed upon my mind." 

Fatal symptoms, however, discovered themselves 
shortly after, and his worst misgivings were confirmed. 
When, however, the event did arrive, he exerted himself 
to control his own feelings and distress. He was most 
anxious for the effect which this bereavement might 
have upon the health of his wife. Yet, though he 
struggled to be tranquil, to subdue himself, — though he 
bent his spirit with Christian resignation to the stroke 
of this affliction, — he feared that the effort would have 
an injurious effect upon his constitution. This was 
doubtless the case. 

Upon his return from Holland, and in the midst 
of this sorrow, Southey found awaiting him an invitation 
to accept a seat in Parliament ; in fact, that he had been 
elected to represent the borough of Downton. The 
letter further proceeded to state that the grounds of his 
election were the opinions expressed in his " Book of 
the Church.' ' The simple pledge that he would main- 
tain those opinions in the House of Commons was all 
that was required of him. 



246 A GOOD QUALIFICATION. 

This document was without signature, but the hand- 
writing was recognised to be that of Lord Radnor, to 
whom Southey was an entire stranger. Southey felt at 
once how inconsistent a public life would be with his 
former habits, and his aversion to mingle much in 
society decided at once a step which Prudence herself 
could not but recommend. There were many pecuniary 
difficulties in the way, and his holding the office of 
poet-laureate was another disqualification, which he 
could not honourably get over. 

It is true there were many loopholes by which he 
might have escaped the letter of the law, but the spirit 
alone was sufficient to bind him ; and he felt that, to a 
conscientious mind, the obligation of an oath is equally 
binding upon the least significant as well as the most 
important intentions of a statute. With a courteous 
acknowledgment of his lordship's kindness, and intima- 
tion to the Speaker that his election was null and void, 
the matter would have ended, had he not been told that 
a plan was formed for purchasing a qualification, and 
giving him an estate of 300Z. a-year. In this movement 
it was always understood that Sir R. H. Inglis, who has 
always proved a steady and unflinching friend of the 
Church Establishment, took a leading part ; and it was 
intended not only to command the services of Southey 
in a parliament in which it was evident the grand strug- 
gle between the Government and the Catholics would 
take place, but also as a testimony of the admiration 



THE GARRICK PAPEES. 247 

which he and his party entertained of the extraordinary 
abilities, fearless intrepidity, and unwearied zeal of 
Southey in his defence of the Church and State. This 
again was insufficient to induce Southey to quit his 
private position and " enter into public life, at an age 
when a wise man would think of retiring from it." 

When we take into consideration the pecuniary diffi- 
culties under which he always laboured, the appre- 
hensions of the future which always overshadow his 
present enjoyment, and the fondness with which he 
looked forward to a time when he might be placed 
above the necessity of assiduous daily toil, honourable as 
it was, we cannot but admire the impartiality with 
which Southey weighed in the balance of his judgment 
the chances of his greater usefulness in a public or 
private sphere, and the firmness with which he adhered 
to that decision, which mature consideration had con- 
vinced him was most beneficial for his country ,and his 
own reputation. 

A proposition was made to him to undertake the 
arrangement of the " Garrick Papers." a labour which 
he expressed himself willing to engage in, — not, how- 
ever, for the love of the subject, but for the lucre of 
gain. In fact, his studies were at that time very inap- 
propriate for the undertaking. A medley of w 7 orks 
crowded his table, which he could not help smiling at 
when he accepted the offer. Here a Portuguese poem 
on the merits of the Virgin Mary, there a volume or 



248 A LITERARY MAN'S TABLE. 

two from the works of some of the most eminent 
divines ; in one place lay books upon the Council of 
Trent and the Tutelary Deities of Popish Christendom ; 
in another, Reports upon Emigration, and Phenomena 
of the Dead ; whilst volumes of the Acts of the Saints 
and of Baronius were scattered about amongst the others. 

Southey, full of occupation as he unreluctantly was, 
had his labours further increased by a new T engagement 
upon the " Foreign Quarterly," — a review which had 
just been started. He was at first offered ten guineas a 
sheet, upon the plea of its being a young periodical ; but 
as these terms did not meet the demands of Southey, 
an offer of one hundred pounds per article was politely 
made ; and he accordingly prepared one upon the 
Moorish History of Spain for the first number. At 
this time, also, the Royal Society of Literature voted 
him a gold medal. 

The questions of National Education and the removal 
of the Catholic Disabilities had been for some time, and 
was then, agitating the country. Southey felt strongly 
upon both these subjects. The deep research which he 
had gone into respecting the history of the Roman 
Church, and the direct tendency of its institutions, had 
long made him regard with fearful forebodings any con- 
cessions that might be granted to it. A period of up- 
wards of twenty years has elapsed, and the question is 
more formidably brought forward than ever in confirma- 
tion of out his prediction, that^the Church of Rome will 



S0UTHEY ON EDUCATION. 249 

not, cannot, according to its own teaching and the sworn 
duty of its own servants, cease from being aggressive. 
On the subject of National Education Southey's opinions 
tallied in some points with the sentiments of men at once 
religious and liberal ; amongst whom was the celebrated 
Dr. Arnold. That there ought not only to be, but that 
there was a necessity for, an extensive system of educa- 
tion, he strongly advocated; but he could not satisfy 
himself that any attempt ought to be made unconnected 
with the teaching of the principles of the Christian reli- 
gion. For this reason he objected to the establishment 
of the University College, and even to the introduction 
of the Mechanics' Institutes. He proceeded upon certain 
postulates, which he drew up for his own satisfaction. 
Having firmly fixed in his own mind the truth of 
revealed religion, he considered the Church of England, 
though requiring amendment, exclusively the safest re- 
pository of the word of truth. He regarded its con- 
nexion with the State necessary; and, moreover, that 
all revolution must destroy the happiness of a genera- 
tion. In the present advanced state of opinion it is 
not necessary to discuss again these notions of our 
political poet. He was strongly attached to them, as 
most men are to extreme ideas. 

Southey, in the summer of this year, went to 
London, for the twofold purpose of seeing his uncle, 
the Rev. Herbert Hill, for the last time, and to un- 
dergo a painful operation for a disease which had for 



250 THE DEATH OF PUS UNCLE HILL. 

twelve years afflicted him, and impaired his health and 
his enjoyments. He found upon his arrival that there 
were few hopes of his uncle's recovery. He was seventy- 
nine years of age, and bowed down by suffering. The 
meeting was indeed the last, for Southey had scarcely 
returned home before he expired. 

A curious trait of Southey's character is displayed 
connected with the operation he underwent. He was 
aware that it would be attended with much pain and 
considerable danger, and, well knowing how appre- 
hensive his family would be did they suppose he in- 
tended to undergo such an operation, he left home 
without raising the least suspicion of his intention, and 
the first intimation they received of it was from his own 
hand, still trembling from its effects. " God be 
thanked," he says, " I shall no longer bear about with 
me the sense of a wearying and harassing infirmity ; 
and though you will not give me credit for being a good 
bearer of pain, because I neither liked to have my 
finger scorched by a hot plate nor scarified by that 
abominable instrument called a pin, yet Copeland 
will." 

Among his other London engagements, he sat to 
Sir Thomas Lawrence for his portrait and to Sir 
Francis Chantrey for his bust. The former is consi 
dered the best likeness of him that has been executed ; 
the latter, though admired by his friends, did not 
satisfy the judgment of the illustrious sculptor. 



A CASUAL REVIEW. 25 I 



CHAPTER XX. 

Keview of Southey's Labours — His Hopes and Aspirations — 
Eev. Mr. Shannon — Colloquies of Sir Thomas More, and the 
Eev. J. Hornby — The Church and Methodism — A Cha- 
ritable Institution — Literary Labours — Yisit to London — 
Political Excitement — Visit to Hampshire — Crediton — 
Bristol, 

^Etat. 55-57. 

The incidents connected with the life of Southey, as 
we have observed before, are so " few and far between," 
that we must not be surprised to find a considerable 
period elapse without affording matter of sufficient im- 
portance to warrant its assertion. His daily routine 
was so similar, that having once described it, we have 
given the reader a correct idea of his mode of living 
for upwards of forty years of the most energetic and 
laborious portion of his existence. Whatever diversity 
occurred was occasioned only by change of the subject 
upon which he was engaged, the visits of his friends, or 
an excursion from home. His table was always crowded 



252 THE CHARACTER OF SOUTHEY's WRITINGS. 

with articles to be finished, reviews to be posted, and 
poems in embryo. The " Quarterly," the " Foreign 
Quarterly," and the Annuals, pressed upon him the ne- 
cessity of dispatch ; whilst his " Colloquies," or " History 
of Portugal," were only laid aside temporarily, to be 
taken up as soon as the immediate pressure of engage- 
ments was removed. His writings, much as he had 
formerly been averse to it, had of late been political 
and controversial. He had been drawn involuntarily 
into the vortex of public discussion, and entered the 
arena with strong feelings and a fearless independence, 
which could not be affected by the influence of friends 
nor overawed by the denunciations of enemies. In fact, 
he had accustomed himself to disregard the virulent 
language of his political opponents so far as not to 
allow it to influence the proper equipoise of his spirits ; 
though he could not occasionally help reflecting that 
the continued and universal attacks made upon his 
writings seriously injured him in a pecuniary point of 
view, by depreciating the value of his books and di- 
minishing the extent of their sale. Yet such causes 
were impotent to change the strong conviction of his 
heart. He wrote what he firmly believed to be for 
the welfare of his country; and if he erred, as cer- 
tainly he did, in the view which he took of many of the 
principles of government, the error was in his judg- 
ment, for in his heart he was irreproachably sincere. 
He looked to the future for the justification of his 



EEV. MR. SHANNON. 253 

life and opinions, and was consoled with the hope 
that posterity would award to him that measure of jus- 
tice which his own age apparently w r as so unwilling to 
confer. 

Yet there were occasions when his feelings proved 
too sensitive, and his unconscious spirit was open to a 
wound. He had never shrunk from avowedly confessing 
the change which had taken place in his political senti- 
ments, and he had borne with a smile the abuse w r hich 
not a few were ever pouring upon him — conscious of 
the rectitude of his life, and bold in the confidence that 
he could give a reason for the faith that was in him. 
But some there were who, not content to vilify him 
upon the realities of his life, went even so far as to mis- 
represent what had passed privately in conversation 
between him and them, and invent expressions which 
he had never used. Amongst this number w r as the 
Eev. Mr. Shannon, of Edinburgh, who, roused by some 
powerful passages in an article on the Catholic ques- 
tion which appeared in the " Quarterly," insidiously 
hoped " that it was not the production of Mr. Southey, 
as it was utterly inhuman ; " that he could remember 
when the enthusiasm of Southey rose to the highest 
pitch of indignation on alluding to the wrongs and 
sufferings of Ireland; "and that it was impossible 
that the moral sense should undergo so complete a 
transformation, except from causes which were liable 
to suspicion." An article in the " Times" gave greater 



254 A GEOSS INSINUATION. 

publicity to these sentiments, which had been em- 
bodied in a pamphlet ; and many, following in the 
same track, were willing to receive for fact the gra- 
tuitous statement of this reverend gentleman, and to 
scandalise Southey with the imputation of corrupt 
tergiversation. 

This charge, however, was ably answered and re- 
futed by Henry Taylor, in a spirited letter to the 
" Times," in which, after examining the article in 
question, he produced passages that, so far from exhi- 
biting an "inhuman spirit/' evinced a strong and liberal 
mind, and an earnest desire to rescue that unhappy 
people from the ignorance, misery, and degradation 
into which they had sunk. Southey could appeal to 
friends who had been his intimate associates for years, 
to show that what were his opinions upon Ireland and 
the Catholic question thirty years previously were the 
same then ; and he himself, in a letter to the Rev. Mr. 
Shannon, observes, " Nor do I suppose that we differ 
now upon anything else relating to Ireland, except upon 
the question whether concession to the Romanists is 
likely to remedy the evils of that poor country, or to 
aggravate them." Southey, however, considered that 
Mr. Shannon, in his allusion to the causes which are 
liable to suspicion, had done him a public wrong and 
owed him a public acknowledgment ; but the latter 
gentleman persisted in maintaining the correctness of 
his own impression. 



CHURCH METHODISM. 255 

But if the serener hours of South ey were thus rudely 
disturbed by the voice of condemnation, he had fre- 
quently the happiness to find that his efforts were not 
altogether unproductive of good. In his " Colloquies 
of Sir Thomas More " he had taken an opportunity 
of introducing the subject of Church Methodism, and 
the establishment of females to visit the sick at 
hospitals, rather than incur the risk of plunging into 
those — at that time — dens of iniquity, the prisons. 
This led him into a correspondence with Sir Oswald 
Mosley, the Rev. J. J. Hornby of Urnwick, and others, 
upon the feasibility of effecting a union between the 
Church and Methodism. There were not a few — and 
it is, in a great measure, the case at this present — who 
saw with apprehension the wide chasm that existed be- 
tween the clergy and the humbler portion of their flock. 
However assiduous a minister might be in the discharge 
of his sacred duties — however constant in visiting the 
poor and the afflicted — however affable in his manner 
towards them, they could not but perceive that the 
education, position, and tone of feeling in the one con- 
trasted too strongly with the habits and disposition of 
the other ; and that the cement which united the poorer 
portion of the congregation was rather a respectful 
gratitude than the bond of Christian fellowship. Hence 
it was thought advisable to adopt the services of men 
who should visit the sick, expound the Scriptures, and 
relieve the ordained clergyman of much of his arduous 



256 A CHARITABLE INSTITUTION. 

duties. Thus, whilst acting under the direction of the 
Church, they would gain over and retain thousands who, 
from the cause above stated, swelled the ranks of 
Dissent. 

Southey wished to introduce this organisation still 
farther. " In any parish," he writes to the Rev. J. J, 
Hornby, " where a society were once methodised, it 
might be possible to engraft upon their discipline a 
plan of looking after the sick for the purpose of admi- 
nistering to their bodily necessities." In his " Colloquies" 
before mentioned, he had alluded to two female cha- 
racters, in language so descriptive of their persons and 
labours that they could not be mistaken. — Mrs. Fry 
and Mrs. Opie. These he had pointed out as well 
fitted to take the lead in the formation of such a society. 
This led to a communication with the latter lady, having 
for its object a better understanding of his plan, and an 
expression of readiness on her part and that of Mrs. Fry 
to co-operate as far as was in their power in promoting 
so charitable an object. 

The result of these communications was, that Mr. 
Hornby, in concert with a Mr. Hodgson of Liverpool, 
undertook to establish such an institution as an experi- 
ment, and to maintain it for two years. For this pur- 
pose a house was fitted up, a matron engaged, and 
nurses trained and sent out. The scheme seemed to 
answer so well that others joined them, not only in 
the support of the institution, but in its management 



THE CO-OPEEATIVE SYSTEM. 257 

and responsibilities. The effect of this was, that a 
unity of purpose no longer existed. Some, seeing the 
valuable class of persons they were training, sought to 
divert them from the proposed object, and to render 
them available for the upper classes. This was a direct 
violation of the very spirit and intention of the plan ; 
the poor, for whom the establishment was set on foot, 
being set aside, and the charity of its founders defeated. 
Seeing this perversion of their original object and labours, 
Mr. Hornby and Mr. Hodgson withdrew at the termi- 
nation of the two years, and the whole scheme fell to 
the ground. 

For a while the co-operative system attracted the 
attention of Southey, and he seemed disposed to favour 
it ; but his hands were full of other engagements. 
" The Peninsular War," a " Life of John Bunyan," an 
introduction for John Jones' verses, an article for the 
" Quarterly," on Maw's Journal, and an account of 
the mission to Tahiti, were the principal matters that 
occupied him now. He had also accepted a propo- 
sition to write a volume of naval history for the 
" Cabinet Cyclopaedia." Thus his life was allowed to 
pass ; little employments, as he expresses it, elbowing 
worthier and greater undertakings, and shouldering 
them aside. 

Towards the close of this year (1830) Southey re- 
solved upon another journey to London, which was ulti- 
mately extended to Hampshire. The great political 



258 NEW COLLOQUIES. 

drama that was enacting at the time grew every day in 
interest and attraction ; the struggle between the Re- 
formers and the Anti-reformers became hourly more 
intense; and the desire to be present in and mingle 
with these stirring events was the principal inducement 
that drew him from his retirement, and induced him 
again to encounter the multitudes of the crowded metro- 
polis. Another reason may be ascribed to an anxiety to 
consult personally with his publishers, which he found 
it expedient to do, as well as to carry out the plan of a 
new series of Colloquies, in which his friend Mr. Rick- 
man was to be interlocutor, — a plan he had for some 
time contemplated. A large portion of this work, it 
appears, was written in the course of the following year, 
and even a part set up in type ; but, owing to the want 
of unity in thought and reasoning between the two con- 
troversialists, for so we must call them, it was never 
completed. 

When in London he entered, more than he had 
ever done before, into society. He was in request 
amongst the highest circles ; he received invitations to 
dinner from the Duchess of Kent and the Duke of 
Wellington ; he was a visitor at Lambeth Palace, and 
mingled with politicians of all opinions and all grades. 
Statesmen entering office, and ministers resigning their 
posts, were equally known to him ; and he felt himself 
sufficiently familiar with some to congratulate them on 
the success of their intrigues. He must now have 



SOUTHEY AND LOED BKOUGHAM. 259 

learnt how greatly his services were valued by the 
higher orders, if he had been before ignorant of it, in 
the support of the Crown and the Conservative party. 
He was everywhere recognised with the most lavish 
compliments and attentions. This was highly gratifying 
to him ; but what struck him as most remarkable on 
the occasion was, that as he retired from the levee Lord 
Brougham, then Lord Chancellor, came up and cordially 
greeted him. 

When Southey left London, he proceeded with his 
friend, Mr. Hickman, into Sussex, and from thence, after 
a few days, to Buckland, near Lymington, the residence 
of Miss Bowles, where he found sufficient leisure and 
repose to finish an article for the ensuing " Quarterly." 
The remarks he makes upon his progress, and the in- 
teresting anecdotes he collected on his journey, show 
how close an observer he was, even on ground that had 
been frequented by thousands before him, and to whom 
it had yielded no particular interest. Everywhere he 
was met by friends who welcomed him with the warmth 
of a long-established friendship, or strangers who took 
the opportunity of testifying their admiration for his 
learning and abilities by offering him the hospitality 
of their houses. From Buckland he proceeded into 
Devonshire, to visit his old friend and fellow-colle- 
gian, the Rev. Mr. Lightfoot, at Crediton. Here he 
spent but a few days, being anxious to see his aunt 
— the last of his father's generation — who resided at 



260 SOUTHEY VISITS THE WEST. 

Taunton, on his way to Bristol, where he had not 
been for twenty years. Having once more gazed upon 
the scenes of his childhood, the love of which still 
kindled in his bosom the fire of fancy and of poetry, 
he returned home, impatient to resume the quiet tenor 
of his life. 



THE ENDOWMENT OF LITERATUKE. 261 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Lord Brougham and the Endowment of Literature — Southey's 
Opinions on the Subject — Character of Education — Obser- 
vance of the Sabbath — Eeform Bill and the Conservatives — 
Dr. Bell — Professorship of Humanity, Glasgow — Essays, 
Moral and Political — The Doctor — Its Publication — Mar- 
riage of his eldest Daughter — Illness of his Wife — State of 
Southey's Feelings. 

JEtat. 57-61. 

During this tour South ey was not a little surprised to 
receive a letter from Lord Brougham. After com- 
menting upon the neglected state of literature in this 
country, and acknowledging the justice of the censure 
that lay against the Government for not having done 
more for its encouragement, his lordship proposed the 
two following questions, which contain the tenor of his 
letter for Southey's consideration. 

First. Whether or not letters will gain by the more 
avowed and active encouragement of the Government ? 

Secondly. In what way that encouragement can be 
most safely and beneficially given ? 



262 QUESTIONS CONSIDERED. 

The danger to be guarded against under the first 
head would naturally be the undue influence of Govern- 
ment, which, without very stringent regulations, could 
easily wield such a fund for its own political purposes, 
and against the liberties of the country. Under the 
second head was to be suggested the means — whether, 
for instance, pecuniary assistance, the encouragement of 
societies, the judicious foundations of prizes, a more ex- 
tended distribution of honours, or an order of merit, 
would be most calculated to produce the desired result. 

Southey, in his reply, began by taking a view of the 
pecuniary prospects of literature and literary men. He 
suggested that there were works of national importance 
which might be undertaken by the Government, but 
w r hich private enterprise could never accomplish. He 
instanced, for example, the formation of an Entymo- 
logical Dictionary, which naturally lay without the scope 
of individual speculation. He hints that literature 
might gain much by assistance devoted to such a cause, 
but the nation still more. The arguments which follow 
this are tinged with his own peculiar feelings, and 
founded upon an ill-judged opinion of his fellow-labourers 
in the field of literature. His political opinions or preju- 
dices are unfortunately too strong to suffer him to weigh 
the matter in an equal balance, and he proceeds upon 
the exploded notion, that virtue rarely dwells with the 
needy. He presumes that liberal principles spring from 
poverty, and exist only amongst the poor ; that a man 



LAY BENEFICES. 263 

might be kept virtuous, that is, free from mischief, by a 
timely encouragement ; and that many clung solely to 
the popular cause because they were necessitous. 

In this reasoning Southey has confounded poverty 
and crime, and it is obvious that such an object in the 
encouragement of learning and learned men, " to with- 
hold them from mischief," would be to corrupt, if not to 
destroy, truth — the great end and object of all inquiry. 

The letter further suggests, by way " not of retain- 
ing such persons to act as pamphleteers and journalists, 
but of preventing them from becoming such in hostility 
to the established order of things," a kind of academy, 
with salaries (in the nature of literary or lay benefices). 
A yearly grant of 10,000Z. might endow ten appoint- 
ments of 500Z. each for the elder class, and twenty-five of 
2001. each for the younger men.* Southey, however, dis- 
claims all idea of honours for literary men. In the case 
of scientific men he finds a plea in precedent. , Newton 
and Davy were knighted. He cannot, however, con- 
ceive it possible that a man of letters can find any 
accession of pleasure in the distinction of an honoraiy 
title and the acquisition of a bloody hand on his 
escutcheon. All that he demands is an alteration in 
the law of copyright as it then existed. Having given 
this opinion, by no means favourable to literary encou- 
ragement, unless upon the principle that it is necessary 

* See an amusing developement of a similar idea in a novel 
recently published, entitled " The Fortunes of Francis Croft." 



264 A DIFFICULT QUESTION. 

to " purchase up " the silence and submission of oppo- 
sition, the subject was pursued no further, and it was 
left to the late Sir Robert Peel to take the initiative in 
befriending the literature of his country. 

Southey's views upon the necessity and importance 
of education were frequently urged in his different 
writings and publications. He always advocated an 
extensive system, and never more fully than in a letter 
to his friend, the Rev. Neville White. In this letter 
he justly complains of an education that ends almost 
where it begins, teaching the children nothing, and 
sending them out into the world with misconceptions of 
their actual condition. In such instances he declares it 
to be an injury rather than a good, an evil springing 
out of the misapplication of the principle rather than the 
principle itself. He demands, that if there be an educa- 
tion it should be universal ; and that it is just, it is the 
only safeguard to civil security, that there should be an 
equality of instruction. The difficult question that pre- 
sented itself to his mind, however, was, how to make 
the religious instruction which children received at 
school of more effect, and how to deal with children of a 
very tender age. In the first case, he perceives the evil 
of children being taken from school before their man- 
ners are formed. In the second, he is afraid to act, lest 
we interfere too much with the duties and the privileges 
of the parents. Yet he laments the consequences of the 
alternative of non-interference, being convinced that 



SEEDLESS ALAKMS. 265 

half the crimes which take place in our villages and our 
towns is the result of street education. 

The opposition of Southey to the Eeform Bill is so 
well known that it would be supererogatory to give his 
opinions here, but the consequences which the passing 
of that bill were expected by the Conservatives to pro- 
duce were so extravagant that I cannot forbear extracting 
from a letter of Southey's, written at this time, a descrip- 
tion of the alarm into which that party was thrown : — " I 

saw Lord this morning ; he said, ' We are going to 

wreck,' and I was shocked to see how ill he looked : 
twenty years older than when I dined with him at 
Croker's in December last." This was the result, as 
Southey would fain believe, of the anxiety produced by 
the approaching change. The laureate pictures his 
friends even in a more pitiable state of nervousness than 
himself at the prospect they had to contemplate — evils 
coming in with the force of a spring-tide befor,e a high 
wind. Such was the inflated language used to prepare 
the mind to expect the most terrible calamities. We 
can now afford to contemplate, without anger, the absurd 
previsions of men conservatively organised. That there 
are such men is evident ; and, despite his early enthu- 
siasm, Southey was one of them. We have a right, 
however, to be less lenient to those who, after seeing 
the beneficial results of reform, persist in regretting the 
old system. The extension of the franchise was then 
an experiment ; empyricism is always dangerous, but 



266 THE EEV. DK. BELL. 

who, looking back over the last twenty years, can affirm 
that the operation of the Reform Act has not been 
attended with beneficial results ? The trial has been 
made, the good experienced, and England is now await- 
ing a further extension of that which has proved so 
invaluable a blessing. 

The name of Dr. Bell has been occasionally alluded 
to in these pages. For his person Southey had the 
greatest respect, and his system of education met with 
his warmest support. A long life had been devoted by 
the Doctor to the developement of his plan, and it met, 
for awhile, with great popularity. Southey was now 
invited to attend his friend upon the melancholy busi- 
ness of setting in order his worldly affairs. A gradual 
paralysis had deprived him of the power of speech, and 
his constitution was otherwise affected ; so that, although 
he retained his mental faculties in full vigour, he might 
at any hour, or at any moment, be summoned to his 
last account. 

The Rev. Doctor had, it appears, deposited 120,000Z. 
in the three per cents, in the hands of trustees, and this 
sum had been divided into twelve parts, six of which 
went to the town and University of St. Andrew's, and 
four for founding Madras Schools at Edinburgh, Glas- 
gow, Aberdeen, and Inverness. On the disposal of the 
remaining two, he requested the advice of Southey, who 
proposed that one part should be given to the augment- 
ation of small livings, upon the ground that, as the pro- 



I 



GLASGOW PROFESSOKSHIP. 267 

perty had been almost wholly derived from the Church, 
the Church had some claim upon a part of it ; and that 
the other should be applied for founding schools upon 
his own plan in parishes so assisted. Dr. Bell, however, 
did not coincide with this opinion, and considered it his 
duty rather to devote his whole property to the object 
w r hich had occupied his life. The will was so framed. 

A rapid tour of three hundred miles, by way of 
Liverpool to Shrewsbury, and by Manchester home, 
released Southey, during the autumn of this year, from 
his heavy duties, and recruited his strength. Upon his 
return he found an invitation to offer himself a can- 
didate for the Professorship of Humanity at Glasgow 
awaiting him, with the confident assurance that the 
chances of success were not doubtful. He had received 
the notice, however, too late to enable him to make 
certain inquiries ; and apprehending that the professors 
were required to subscribe to the Kirks articles of faith, 
which left him no choice, he allowed the invitation to re- 
main unaccepted ; " though," as he expresses it, " under 
the present circumstances of the publishing trade, it 
would have become a question of prudence, in which in- 
clination must not have been suffered to interfere." 

The " Essays, Moral and Political," which were 
selections from Southey 's most important articles in the 
"Quarterly Review," or the "Edinburgh Annual Re- 
gister," were now produced. In printing them, South ey's 
desire was to restore those passages which Gifford had 



268 HISTOEY OF THE PENINSULAB WAK. 

so unsparingly cut out, or perverted, or weakened, and 
to give to the public a complete and genuine edition of 
his opinions upon those topics. He was not, however, 
always successful in restoring the mutilated parts, since 
it was not in his power, in every instance, to recover the 
MSS. to enable him to effect his purpose. It was also 
his intention that, if these obtained a tolerable sale, to 
follow them with similar volumes, ecclesiastical, his- 
torical, literary, and miscellaneous. 

Not long after the professor's chair at Glasgow had 
been proposed to Southey, a similar offer on the part of 
the Durham University was made to him. The state of 
the publishing trade, I have said, would have induced 
him to accept a post where his remaining years might be 
spent free from those harassing pecuniary anxieties 
which appeared to be increasing as he grew older ; but, 
after communicating with the authorities of the college, 
it was found that the remuneration was not such as would 
warrant his removal from Keswick, and he returned 
patiently to the undeviating sources of his income, and 
concluded his " History of the Peninsular War." 

It has been frequently remarked in the course of 
these pages, that Southey 's pen was never at rest. The 
demands of the publishers, or the energy of his own 
character and the love of writing, kept him incessantly 
occupied ; and although he was above sixty years of age, 
more than forty of which had been devoted to literature, 
the vigour of his mind and hand did not seem to flag. 



ACCUMULATING LABOUKS. 269 

In addition to his ordinary periodical labours, a "Life 
of John Bunyan," to accompany an edition of the " Pil- 
grim's Progress," " Select Works of British Poets," from 
Chaucer to Jonson, edited with biographical notices, 
and the last volume of the " Peninsular War," had 
issued from his pen between the years 1830 and 1833. 
whilst the " Lives of the English Divines," and the 
" Naval History of England " were in preparation. 

In 1834 was published "The Doctor," the incidents 
connected with the composition and publication of which 
are of an amusing character. It had been commenced 
as early as the year 1813, and occasionally resorted to 
in spare moments as an amusement. Into it were 
inwoven all that odd knowledge and quaint collection of 
fancies which its author met with in the course of his 
extensive and extraordinary readings from old books and 
antiquated writers, as well as much playful and serious 
matter that could not be disposed of elsewhere. One of 
the curious facts connected with it was, that its ex- 
istence was only known to Grosvenor Bedford, and, 
latterly, Mr. Henry Taylor. The work having accumu- 
lated by the advance of many years, Southey determined 
to publish two volumes to test the public taste. To 
create some little excitement about the book, it was also 
resolved to keep the matter a secret from the printers, to 
whom Southey 's handwriting was well-known ; and by 
the assistance of his two friends it was transcribed, and 
put into the hands of the publisher. So privately was 



270 THE DOCTOR AND HIS FRIENDS. 

the whole affair conducted, that, whatever members of 
the family were cognizant of the printing of " The Doc- 
tor," his son was designedly kept ignorant of it. 

It had been previously arranged that, when published, 
the volumes should be sent to Greta Hall, with " From 
the author " written on the title-page. Upon its arrival 
much surprise was occasioned, much curiosity excited. 
Not a few of Southey's friends, knowing his habits and 
train of thought, referred the work to him. But there 
were many extraneous circumstances that threw them 
off the scent, and, not least, the ignorance which 
Southey affected as to the authorship. 

The mystification that existed on the subject, — the 
conversations that were held upon it, and especially 
about the book, afforded much amusement to the in- 
itiated ; and as Mr. Cuthbert Southey was ignorant who 
the author was, this seemed to throw those friends who 
were staying at Greta Hall still more off their guard. 
At length the doubt was cleared up by Southey himself 
presenting to his son the MS. of " The Doctor." 

The next event of any importance in Southey 's 
life was the marriage of his eldest daughter to the 
Rev. J. W. Warter, and her departure for the coast 
of Sussex. This was to him a real affliction. He 
was particularly domesticated, and attached to every 
individual who had upon him either the claims of affec- 
tion, or to whom he had become sincerely attached by a 
long exercise of hospitality. His own family were not its 



A DISMEMBERED HOME. 271 

only members. His wife's sisters, Mrs. Lovell and Mrs. 
Coleridge, with their families, had long formed a part of 
his household, together with Miss Barker, a young lady 
whose acquaintance he first made at Cintra. Around 
his hearth these were all hospitably received, and al- 
though his income was never large and always pre- 
carious, yet he cheerfully laboured for their support. 
In 182-9 his niece, Miss Coleridge, had been married to 
her cousin, Henry Nelson Coleridge, and the change 
thus effected in his circle (for Mrs. Coleridge went to 
reside with her daughter), the loss of old familiar faces, 
left a sense of loneliness upon his spirit; and when his 
daughter was withdrawn he felt that his home — home 
in the true, unalloyed sense of the word — was broken 
up for ever. 

Yet a deeper sorrow was looming upon him. For 
some time Mrs. Southey had been in a weak and nervous 
state. Her spirits had during a long life been harassed 
by an increasing anxiety, arising from the precarious 
nature of their income and the heaviness of their ex- 
penditure, as well as from the excitement of too much 
company, and all this had acted injuriously upon her 
constitution ; and now a total loss of appetite and sleep 
created serious apprehensions, which were too sadly 
realised in the certain discovery that she was no longer 
herself. 

Her immediate removal seemed the best remedy 
to this mental disease; and, with a sorrowing heart, 



272 A NEW AFFLICTION. 

Southey conveyed her to an asylum near York. In 
allusion to this journey he writes, — " I have been parted 
from my wife by something worse than death : forty 
years she has been the life of my life." In another 
letter he writes, — " I cannot but regard it as a special 
mercy that this affliction should have fallen upon me at 
a time when there were no extraneous circumstances to 
aggravate it." This was a painful and a trying season 
for Southey. The varying accounts he received from 
York — alternating to good one day, to evil the next 
— kept him in a constant state of inquietude ; yet 
though he could be no longer happy, for the sake of 
others he was contented and cheerful. " A common 
observer," observes his son, " would have remarked 
but little change in him, except that he was unusually 
silent; but to his family the change was great indeed." 
The regular report from York at length closed up all 
the springs of hope ; and the only reasonable expect- 
ation that now could be entertained was that such 
an improvement would take place as might restore the 
unconscious mother to the care of her family, under 
that roof which her presence had cheered and blessed 
for so many years. 



OFFER OF A BARONETCY. 273 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Offer of a Baronetcy — Pension from the Civil List — Health of 
Mrs. Southey — Southey subpoenaed to the Lancaster Assizes 

— Tour to the West of England — Life of Cowper — Naval 
Biography — Death of Mrs. Southey — Tour on the Continent 

— Calais — Caen — Bayeux — Nantes — Orleans — Paris — 
Return to England— Second Marriage of Southey. 

Whatever may be the judgment formed of Southey 's 
political opinions, in whatever estimate his poetic efforts 
may be held by the critics of the present or future ages, 
there can be no doubt but that there are few branches 
of literature which have not been enriched by his exten- 
sive study and erudition, and the force and elegance of 
his writings. That these services to his country were 
not altogether unappreciated, cannot be better shown 
than by the mark of respect which it was intended by 
the Government of the day to bestow upon him. 

This was a proposal on the part of Sir Robert Peel 
to confer upon him a baronetcy. The offer was con- 
veyed to him in a complimentary letter from the 
minister, who took occasion to insert another — a pri- 

t 



274 A JUDICIOUS EEFUSAL. 

vate one. This was to request him, unreservedly, to 
state in what manner Sir Robert could best serve him, 
as he felt it his duty as a public man to mark the 
services which Southey had rendered, " not only to 
literature, but to the higher interests of virtue and 
religion." 

Southey, on the receipt of these letters, at once 
perceived how unwise it would be in him to accept an 
honour that could not add to his permanent fame, and 
which, under the present afflicted state of his family, 
would seem like a mockery. There were, also, pru- 
dential motives. His income was inadequate to sup- 
port, with becoming dignity, " the pomp and circum- 
stance " attached to such a title ; and he felt that it 
might disturb the present purposes of his son, and 
materially affect the better interests of his future. 
Therefore, with an unreserved statement of his affairs 
(frankness was one of his characteristics), he replied to 
Sir Robert Peel's communications, and declined the 
proffered baronetcy. The result of Southey 's letter, 
however, was, that it induced Sir Robert to apply " the 
miserable pittance " at the disposal of the Crown in the 
Civil List Pension Fund to the encouragement of 
literature. The Right Hon. Baronet did so to establish 
a principle, which he hoped, at some future time, would 
be more liberally extended by Parliament with the 
same laudable view. Accordingly Southey had a sum 
of 300Z. added to the amount of his existing pensions. 



A MISERABLE PITTANCE. 275 

Nor was he the only recipient of the prime minister's 
bounty. Professor Airy of Cambridge, Mrs. Soruerville, 
Sharon Turner, and James Montgomery, were placed 
upon the same list. 

This public generosity on the part of Sir Robert 
Peel happily removed that uncertainty about his future 
means which had so frequently been the source of ha- 
rassing embarrassment to the mind of Southey. Yet he 
did not remit the assiduity with which he had always 
pursued his literary labours. Numerous engagements 
still pressed upon him, and his active mind was still 
occupied in, and relieved by, the production of new 
works, of which his "Life of Cowper" was the chief. 
In the affliction which had so severely shaken him 
he had now the consolation — if consolation it can be 
called — of having her who had been the partner of his 
hopes and anxieties for forty years once more under 
his care and protection. She was still labouring 
under her dreadful malady, and seemed totally un- 
conscious of once familiar faces ; but as she had re- 
mained perfectly harmless, and there appeared no 
probability of her further recovery, Southey deemed it 
cruel to keep her one moment longer than was neces- 
sary away from the gratification which she still might 
derive from having her family around her. Yet was 
her presence, in some measure, a source of increased 
solicitude to her husband. He was anxious of alle- 
viating, as far as was in his power, her distress, and 



276 THE GEE AT WILL CASE. 

imposed the office of watching her wants, and suggest- 
ing whatever he thought might still amuse her, upon 
himself. He felt, too, that it was his duty to exhibit 
as much cheerfulness as he could command, to amuse 
the rest of his household. In fact, so closely did he 
apply himself to these objects, that it was apprehended 
his health would suffer, as he denied himself those little 
exercises, and those kind excursions, which were so 
necessary after that incessant application to study and 
composition every month and week of the year wit- 
nessed. 

How long this disinclination to leave home might 
have lasted can be only conjectural, had not a circum- 
stance occurred which rendered his presence elsewhere 
imperative. About this time a subpoena was served 
upon him to attend at the Lancaster assizes, on what 
was commonly called " the great will case." Mr. 
Marsden, the late proprietor of the Hornby Castle estate 
—an estate yielding an annual income of between 6000Z. 
and 7000Z. — having bequeathed it to the son of his 
steward, Admiral Tatham, the heir-at-law, challenged 
the competency of Mr. Marsden to make a will. One 
part of the evidence rested upon a series of letters, 
purporting to be the production of the testator, which it 
was contended contained internal testimony of the fact. 
It was therefore determined to take the advice of 
several literary men upon the subject ; and Dr. Lin- 
gard, Wordsworth, Dr. Shelton, Mackenzie, and 



SOUTHEY LEAVES HOME. 277 

Southey were selected to give evidence. This tempo- 
rary separation from home was so far beneficial, that it 
induced South ey to comply with the urgent entreaties 
of his friends not to trust too much upon the present 
favourable state of his health, but to employ those 
means which he had periodically used for relieving his 
overwrought mind and refreshing and invigorating his 
constitution. 

The sole cause of his reluctance to leave home had 
been the apprehension of the effect his absence might 
produce upon his wife's health and spirits. He still 
fancied that she received satisfaction, if not actual 
enjoyment, from his presence, and he was unwilling to 
withdraw that little consolation from one so bereaved, 
or leave her entirely to the care of others. His forced 
visit to Lancaster was a favourable experiment. Be- 
yond a momentary discomfort, it was observed that no 
material difference was produced ; and, relying upon 
this, he felt that he might with confidence entrust her 
to the attentions and kindness of her family. 

Accordingly, though the year was late, he deter- 
mined to proceed along the West of England, through 
Bristol, to the Land's End, and back through London 
to Keswick. His health was the principal inducement 
to this tour, but he was also desirous of paying a long 
promised visit to the Rev. Neville White, of inspecting 
some MS. letters of Cowper which had not been sub- 
mitted to his perusal, and also of seeing, for perhaps 



278 SOUTHEY AT BRISTOL. 

the last time, and showing to his son, the scenes and 
haunts of his childhood. With these objects in view 
he left home on the 24th of November, crossed the 
Mersey to Chester, and on the following day arrived at 
Gredington, the seat of Lord Kenyon. Having passed 
two or three days here admiring and enjoying the 
sceneiy, which embraced a distant view of the Welsh 
mountains, he proceeded to Birmingham, having made, 
en passant, a few flying visits. From Birmingham 
Southey posted to Pipe Hayes, the residence of Mr. 
Egerton Bagot, in whose possession the MS. letters of 
Cowper remained. Here he devoted two mornings to the 
perusal of these letters, and transcribing such as had 
hitherto been withheld, and arrived at Bristol on the 3d of 
November, where he was hospitably welcomed and enter- 
tained by his old friend and publisher, Mr. Cottle. To 
one of Southey 's temperament such a meeting could not 
but be accompanied with regretful associations. Though 
no one ever looked forward with more humble con- 
fidence to the final consummation of all things than he, 
yet he loved to dwell — nature and education had di- 
rected his feelings — amongst the past, and feed a 
pensive joy upon the riches of retrospection. The 
review of his life now forced itself vividly upon his 
mind. He beheld, as it were in a grand panorama, 
the scenes of his childhood, manhood, and later career 
sweep before him. The remembrance of his past delight, 
springing from the exuberance of a young and ardent 



THE HOUSE OF HIS NATIVITY. 279 

imagination and quick feelings, — the struggles and 
disappointments, now sunk into insignificance in the 
long perspective of time, which had often checked his 
brightest anticipations but never oppressed him, — the 
faithfulness he had experienced in his friendships, the 
bitter animosity he had found in the world, the honours, 
that had crowned his intense labours, and the afflictions 
which had recently overtaken him, reappeared before 
him like a picture mellowed and softened by the pencil 
of evening ; and as he contemplated it a chastened 
pleasure stole softly into his soul, and soothed, as with 
a strain of music, the melancholy wanderings of his 
spirit. 

He was^ at Bristol, the place of his nativity, and no 
spot connected with his younger days was unvisited. 
The house,— the very room in which he was born, — the 
schools he had been sent to, — the old mansion where he 
occasionally lived with his grandmother, and spent some 
of the pleasantest hours of his boyhood, engaged in 
youthful sports with Shadrach Weeks, stringing jessamine 
blossoms with his sisters under the antique honeysuckled 
porch, or learned to love the garden and rural scenes, — 
the church in which he had been accustomed to attend 
divine service, — the residence of Miss T}der in Col- 
lege Green, — even his boarding-school at Corston, — all 
were sacred in his memory ; nor was Westbury for- 
gotten, where in Martin Hall he passed, as he acknow- 
ledges, the happiest year of his life. In these visits he 



280 A TEIP INTO COKNWALL. 

enjoyed the society of Walter S. Landor, who contri- 
buted greatly to the pleasure of these pilgrimages. 

From Bristol Southey hastened on to Bremhill, the 
picturesque residence of the Rev. William Bowles, and, 
having paid a grateful tribute to friendship and poetical 
genius, proceeded to Holincote, the seat of Sir Thomas 
Acland. In the company and under the guidance of 
this gentleman he went to Killerton, where he met 
Scoresby the Ceticide and the Earl of Devon. He 
visited also Mrs. Crauford, the widow of the general 
killed at Ciudad Rodrigo ; and Charles Hoare, the 
banker. At Powderham, the seat of Lord Devon, he 
remained one night, and went the next day to his old 
friend, the Rev. Mr. Lightfoot, at Crediton, where he 
spent " three comfortable days in a parsonage, having 
everything about him that the heart of man could 
desire." 

After inspecting Hartland Abbey, Southey con- 
tinued his journey into Cornwall, and was gratified by 
visiting places highly interesting to him, as he had de- 
scribed many of them in his ballads. The magnificent 
ruins of Tintagel, reared upon stupendous rocks whose 
airy crests beetled over the far deep, presented a rugged 
and wild scene peculiarly grateful to his imagination ; nor 
was the more distant, though not less magnificent, grand- 
eur of St. Michael's Mount, a less striking object ; whilst 
the chair from which Rebecca Penlake was thrown, and 
the well of St. Keyne, near Liskeard, were not without 



I 



A PECUNIAKY DEFICIT. 281 

their attractions. Having visited the Rev. Derwent 
Coleridge at Helston, and the Rev. E. Bray, the hus- 
band of the novelist, he arrived at Tarring, in Sussex, 
the residence of his eldest daughter since her mar- 
riage. From thence he went to London, where he re- 
mained with his old friends of the metropolis for three 
weeks, when a long arrear of engagements drew him 
back to Keswick, once his cheerful and happy home. 

He now enjoyed for a few short months that pleasure 
which a broken and afflicted family and an intenser 
application to business could afford. Yet they were not 
altogether passed without anxiety. He had devoted 
much time and labour, not to say expense, to preparing 
a careful edition of Cowper's life for Messrs. Baldwin and 
Cradock ; and as his task was completed, and he was 
looking forward to the settlement of their accounts, 
which would have amounted to a considerable sum, their 
insolvency was declared. This created a temporary dis- 
quietude ; but he never w r as deeply affected 'by such 
disappointments, and when the affairs of his publishers 
were arranged he found himself a no greater loser than 
for the sum of tw T o hundred and fifty pounds. 

His greatest bereavement now T fell upon him. His 
wife, who had been labouring under her mental calamity 
for upwards of three years, with no hope to her friends 
of recovery, yet apparently happy in the society and 
affection of her family, had been for some time wasting 
aw T ay, and on the ] 6th of Nov. 1837 expired, free, as far 



282 A HOUSE OF MOURNING. 

as could be judged, from pain, until excess of weakness 
became suffering. " During more than two-thirds of my 
life," writes South ey upon her death, " she had been the 
chief object of my thoughts and I of hers. No man had 
a truer helpmate ; no children a more careful mother." 
Though the event might have been anticipated, and 
humanly speaking even desirable, Southey felt deeply 
the stroke ; and those around him perceived how great 
a change it had wrought upon him. During the whole 
period of her affliction, whilst there was room for the 
exercise of mental hope or physical exertion, he had 
borne up patiently, if not cheerfully, and applied all his 
energies ; nor did he fail to seek the aid of a higher 
Power to control his own feelings, for the sake of her 
over whom he watched and those who required his most 
constant as well as kindest solicitude. Now that the 
cause of that exertion was removed, and his mind 
became relaxed, it was found how weak the long- 
continued struggle and tension of thought had left it. 
His spirits became prostrate ; and although he per- 
severed in the usual routine of his daily duties, and the 
care of those now left under his sole protection, he 
appeared incapable of accommodating himself to his 
bereaved circumstances, and was in every respect an 
altered man. The next six months followed in their 
accustomed course, and found him busy in his corre- 
spondence, preparing a new and corrected edition of his 
poems, continuing his " Naval History," and writing 



FOREIGN TRAVEL. 283 

reviews for the " Quarterly ;" but in his letters might be 
discovered that subdued tone which told how deeply the 
axe of grief had struck into the root of his affections, 
whilst a sincere resignation and a patient abiding of the 
great day pervaded his whole conduct. 

His health was also sensibly impaired, and an infir- 
mity which had recently become troublesome prevented 
him from taking that regular exercise which was essen- 
tial to its preservation. It was, therefore, deemed ad- 
visable by his friends that the autumn of this year should 
be devoted to an excursion upon the Continent. A party 
of six was consequently made up, which consisted of 
Mr. Senhouse — he had accompanied him in his tour 
through Switzerland in 1817 — Mr. Kenyou, Mr. Henry 
Crabbe Robinson, Captain Jones, R.N., Southey, and 
his son. The route fixed upon lay through Normandy, 
Brittany, and a part of Louvaine, to terminate at 
Paris. 

Crossing over to Calais, they proceeded along the 
western coast and visited Havre, Harfleur, Caen, Bay- 
eux, Granville, St. Malo, Nantes, Angiers, Saumur, 
Tours, and Orleans, — names suggestive in themselves 
of peculiar attractions. Having visited the most inte- 
resting places in the neighbourhood of these towns, they 
continued their journey to Paris. Mount St. Michael's 
and Carnac were the spots, in the early part of their 
tour, which afforded the greatest pleasure to Southey ; 
the former as being the counterpart of the Cornish 



284 MELANCHOLY SYMPTOMS. 

Mount, and the latter as containing the most numerous 
remains of a Druidical temple of any now existing. As 
he prosecuted his excursion, a different gratification was 
afforded him in the statue of Joan of Arc at Rouen, and 
the Castle of Chinon, amongst the ruins of which is still 
shown the apartment where the Maid of Orleans had her 
first interview with the king. At Paris the party sepa- 
rated ; Captain Jones and Mr. Kenyon proceeding to 
the Low Countries, Mr. Robinson remaining awhile in 
that city, and Southey and his son, with Mr. Senhouse, 
dropping down the Seine in a steamer, to proceed home- 
ward by way of Havre-de-Gracc. At Southampton the 
small party was again broken up ; Mr. Senhouse pro- 
ceeding to Cumberland, Mr. Cuthbert Southey to Ox- 
ford, and Southey to Lymington, where he intended 
paying a visit to Miss Bowles. 

During this excursion, although all passed off plea- 
santly enough, there were occasions when the effects of 
time, or some other decaying influence, was strongly 
perceived upon Southey. His step was slower ; frequent 
fits of abstraction, and unwonted indecision, marked his 
conduct. This might be the result of age, accompanied 
with a fondness for deep meditation ; but there were 
other symptoms, which seemed to point out the real 
cause. He not unfrequently lost his way in the hotels 
at which they stopped. The journal, in which he still 
minutely recorded what he had visited, is broken off 
abruptly when about two-thirds of the tour is completed ; 



A SECOND MARRIAGE. 285 

and a sudden visible change in the handwriting seemed 
to indicate the progress of the malady fast creeping upon 
him. He was not insensible himself that his memory 
was failing ; and when detected in an error of date or 
reference, a smile filled his features with a painful, 
melancholy light. 

It was probably the consciousness of this mental 
weakness, the apprehension of the mind's disease, so 
frequently alluded to almost prophetically in some of 
his letters, that induced him to take the step which 
followed his return to England. His home-family was 
now reduced to one daughter, — Miss Bertha having been 
married to her cousin, the Rev. Herbert Hill. His 
eldest daughter was far away from him in Sussex ; and 
his son, dividing his time between Oxford and Keswick, 
left but a small portion of it for the latter. Under these 
circumstances he resolved upon a second marriage ; and 
Miss Caroline Bowles, well known as one of the most 
pleasing and natural poetesses of the day, was the 
affianced bride. Southey knew the apparent incon- 
sistency of the step he was about to take. He felt that 
it was either "the wisest or weakest action" he could 
commit ; but he trusted that he was sufficiently 
acquainted with the opinions, principles, and likings 
of the bride, to anticipate a happy result. This event 
was accordingly solemnised at Boldre church on the 
5th of June, 1839 ; and after a short sojourn in Hamp 
shire, Mr. and Mrs. Southey returned to Keswick. 



986 INCREASING SYMPTOMS. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

The last Scene — Eeview of Southey's Character and Writings 
— Greta Hall. 

Fkom this time Southey was no more to the world, and 
the world no more to him. In his family he was as 
one that was not. The life still remained : his person 
was amongst them ; hut the distinguishing principle of 
the man, the intellect, had forsaken its seat, and left 
him as a stranger in a strange land. Those who had 
been the comfort and consolation of many years of his 
latter life, — whose smile had sweetened every toil, 
and whose happiness had been his constant study, — 
those he could recognise no more : his mind was a 
blank. As his recollection became less perfect, events 
of recent interest first faded. On circumstances that 
occupied the busiest periods of his life his thoughts then 
dwelt ; and when the veil was drawn over these, objects 
of a far-off time more closely allied to his feelings lin- 



THE LOSS OF MEMORY. 287 

gered in the cells of memory. So sensible was he of 
the decay of this faculty, that when he failed to recall a 
name or a place, he would press his hand to his brow, 
and with a painful emotion exclaim,—" Memory, me 
mory, where art thou gone ? " 

The malady which had thus deprived him of the 
noblest gift of God, though gradual in its process, was not 
slow. On his return from Hampshire he passed through 
London, and it was anxiously and sorrowfully observed 
by his friends that the fire and vigour of his former con- 
versations were wanting — that his remarks were broken 
and abrupt — that his discourse was incoherent. This 
weakness they were at first willing to attribute to an 
attack of influenza, which had greatly debilitated his 
physical powers — so fondly do we refuse anticipations of 
evil. 

But those who remembered that, for forty years of 
his life, his mental application had been intense and 
unceasing, — that his anxiety to provide the means of 
subsistence had been continuous, — that his system was 
highly nervous, and that the afflictions which he had 
endured so patiently had shaken him to the root, began 
to apprehend that there was a more lasting and perma- 
nent cause for his mental debility. Still they hoped 
that the quiet living of his home, a return to his fa- 
vourite employments, the air of his mountains, and his 
naturally easy and cheerful disposition, would do much 
towards restoring him once more to consciousness. 



288 southey's death. 

But it was not so ; and his subsequent conduct showed 
that the mind was entirely worn out. 

Whilst the lamp of reason still burnt, although the 
flame was dim and hectic, he would talk of work to be 
continued, and anticipate a period of renewing it. His 
* History of Portugal," " The Monastic Orders," " The 
Doctor," — subjects that had occupied his thoughts for 
many years — were spoken of : all were to be taken in 
hand, all completed, and new labours added to the list 
before he died. When the power of comprehending 
their meaning was gone, he still spent his time me- 
chanically in reading his beloved volumes, and would 
walk slowly round his library, and gaze with evident 
pleasure upon the books which had so long been the 
companions of his hours of study and retirement. At 
length, so entirely was the power of receiving this grati- 
fication withdrawn by the total extinction of the memory 
and perceptive faculties, that he passed the last year of 
his life as it were in a dream, without any knowledge or 
consciousness of what was passing around him. In this 
state he languished on. The body became gradually 
weaker, and disorders, which his melancholy condition 
rendered it impossible to treat, appeared. A fever 
which ensued terminated at once whatever pain or 
pleasure he was capable of receiving in this life, on the 
21st of March, 1843. 

The conduct of his funeral was simple. It was a 
dark and stormy morning when his remains were con- 



NATIONAL RESPECT. 289 

veyed to their narrow home. In the beautiful church- 
yard of Crosthwaite, at the western end, in the bosom 
of the mountains he loved so well, and by the side of his 
beloved Herbert, of his faithful wife, and his lamented 
Edith and Isabel, they were deposited without pomp 
and without ceremony. The surviving members of 
his family, Wordsworth, and some of his immediate 
neighbours, followed him to the grave, and thus 
paid their last mournful tribute of affection, friend- 
ship, and respect to the name and the genius of 
Southey. 

In the cathedral of his native city, in the illustrious 
corner of Westminster Abbey, busts and tablets were 
erected to signify the public sense of his merits and 
services. In the church of Crosthwaite, which was 
restored to its ancient architectural proportions for the 
occasion, a full-length recumbent statue, executed in 
marble — an excellent likeness as well as a beautiful 
work of art — was placed by public subscription, and on 
its base were inscribed the following verses from the pen 
of the poet Wordsworth : — 

" Ye vales and hills, whose beauty hither drew 
The poet's steps, and fixed him here ; on you 
His eyes have closed ; and ye, loved books, no more 
Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore : 
To works that ne'er shall forfeit their renown, 
Adding immortal labours of his own, 
Whether he traced historic truths with zeal, 
For the state's guidance or the public weal ; 

U 



290 a poet's tkibute. 

Or fancy, disciplined by curious art, 
Informed his pen ; or wisdom of the heart ; 
Or judgments, sanctioned in the patriot's mind 
By reverence for the rights of all mankind : 
Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast 
Could private feelings meet in holier rest. 
His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud 
From Skiddaw's top, but he to heaven was vowed 
Through a long life, and pure and steadfast faith 
Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death." 

A broad forehead, dark complexion, eyebrows large 
and arched, a piercing eye, mouth somewhat prominent, 
muscular, and expressive, a small chin and aquiline 
nose, constitute the principal features of Southey's face. 
In appearance he was tall, being but one inch under six 
feet, in his manner dignified, but possessing great 
suavity. His countenance, when he spoke, was full of 
animation, kindliness, and intelligence ; and in the 
movement of his dark-brown eye was revealed a deep 
and penetrating spirit. His frame was spare, capable of 
great activity, yet giving no indication of a weak consti- 
tution. A rich profusion of black hair mantled his 
forehead, which as he advanced in years and sorrows 
gathered in upon him, became snowy white, then grew 
perceptibly darker in his last affliction, which left him 
free from the cares and solicitudes of life. 

Of his character, I trust, a sufficiently correct and 
distinct picture has been drawn in the foregoing pages 
to enable the reader to determine for himself. To decide 
between the errors of the heart and the errors of the 



CHARACTER OF SOUTHEY. 291 

judgment requires an impartial no less than a discri- 
minating mind, and those who come to estimate the 
character of Southey, filled with the vague rumours pro- 
pagated by his political antagonists, will do an equal 
injustice to the man and to themselves. In his social 
and domestic relations, Southey was unimpeachable. 
As a husband, a father, and a friend, he was faithful, 
affectionate, and sincere. An humble yet confident feel- 
ing of devotion regulated his actions, whilst a natural 
cheerfulness of disposition induced him to regard with 
unclouded thankfulness every dispensation of Provi- 
dence. A fearless and independent conduct marked his 
career, and though inconsistencies occasionally appear 
in his opinions, they are the result of a boldness of 
thought and freedom of inquiry that led him to adopt 
his own conclusions, lest the adoption of views pro- 
pounded by others should trammel his own convictions. 
In the consciousness of great talents un prostituted to 
the service of immorality, and a rectitude of life that 
could defy the malice of detraction, he exhibits at times 
an indiscreet prominence of his own merits, and loses 
by his fervent egotism what would otherwise redound to 
the discredit of his opponents. 

In his political creed, the greatest disparity is to be 
found between the professions of his early years and the 
conclusions to which he arrived at the close of his long 
and studious life. Yet to a close observer the steps of 
this change, from the wild theorist of Pantisocratic 



292 A SUMMARY. 

schemes to the firm supporter of the ancient institu- 
tions of his country, will appear gradual and distinct ; 
and it must be left to those who have still retained the 
crude and imperfect opinions of their youth, after the 
experience of many years, to define the term, and to 
determine how much of opprobrium is to be attached to 
the appellation of renegade. 

It was Southey's fondest expectation that the laurel of 
epic poetry w T ould be awarded to him by future genera- 
tions, and that his name would hold a higher rank in the 
estimation of posterity than it did amongst the critics of 
his own day. But he overrated the quality of his genius. 
An extensive acquaintance with history and mythology, 
with romance and fiction, gave him a facility of compo- 
sition which is truly astonishing, and he vainly imagined 
that the quantity of verse that he had written would be 
of itself a sufficient guarantee of immortality. His 
" Joan of Arc " appeared at a time when the senti- 
ments it inculcated were the doctrines of the nation, 
and it achieved a greater reputation than he expected 
or its merits deserve. The higher efforts of his muse, 
" Thalaba,' ; " The Curse of Kehama,'' to which may be 
added " Madoc," have never become popular, and the 
same fate — with the exception of a few ballads — has 
awaited his other poetical productions. Yet to the 
student and critical reader the gorgeous and sublime 
descriptions which he meets with in these poems will 
always be read with pleasure. Like an accumulation 






POETRY OF SOUTHEY. 293 

of clouds at sunset, or a vast extent of mountains rising 
forth in the remote horizon, they suggest splendid pic- 
tures to the imagination. The fictions of Southey, 
grand as they are, seldom affect the heart, seldom 
captivate the human affections. The life, the fire, the 
reality of truth is wanting, and his images and person- 
ages pass before us cold and unsubstantial. To this 
must mainly be attributed the cause of their failure in 
awakening our sympathies. If another reason were 
sought, it would be found in the nature of the subjects 
chosen. The Hindoo superstitions upon which these 
poems are founded are strange and unnatural, and alto- 
gether unknown except to the more advanced reader. 
With the Grecian mythology most are familiar, but with 
the extravagant creeds of the East few are even slightly 
acquainted. There is, moreover, a gracefulness about 
the one which the other is entirely deficient in. The 
religion of the Greeks does not offend against Nature, 
the creations of the Hindoos are gross and improbable. 
In " Madoc " and " Don Roderick " the dramatic art is 
wanting, which renders the dialogues flat and uninte- 
resting. Still in the latter poem there is much nature 
and truth, and it is by far the best of Southey' s larger 
poetical works. Of his minor poems there are many 
that will remain favourites, but over his laureate odes 
the veil of oblivion has long and justly been drawn. 

In his prose works, however, Southey has erected 
the most durable monument to his fame and memory, 



294 PE0SE OF SOUTHEY. 

Their number is legion, and they embrace a wide and 
diversified field of subjects. The lives of Nelson, Wes- 
ley, and Cowper, are masterpieces in biography. The 
diction is fluent and rhythmical, and the narratives are 
in an easy and familiar style. In delineating character, 
which he does with great truthfulness and perspicuity, 
Southey exhibits considerable power. 

But the most conspicuous and elaborate of his works 
is the " History of Brazil," a book that he wrote con 
amove. It forms a branch of the more extensive " His- 
tory of Portugal," which he had no leisure to complete. 
The materials from which this work was constructed had 
been collected by his uncle, the Rev. Herbert Hill, were 
unrivalled in value, and accessible to him alone. No 
political bias interrupted the straightforwardness and 
breadth of his judgment, and his poetic fervour found 
scope in the character of the clime, the productions of 
the soil, and the features of savage life, which he de- 
scribes in the most glowing colours. The " Book of the 
Church " will always be admired for its elegant flow of 
language, though it is admitted to be but a partial view 
of the subject it treats. In his " Colloquies " he has 
shown the unpopularity of such works for conveying 
political principles ; and in his account of Doctor 
Daniel Dove, an imitation of "Tristram Shandy," he has 
disclosed his power of connecting odd learning and 
quaint information with agreeable tact. The descrip- 
tions of locality are graphic, the tale of love is well told, 



SALE OF HIS LIBRARY. 295 

and it is a book of many and curious virtues. To the 
"Quarterly Review" he contributed, in the course of 
his long connexion with it, nearly a hundred papers. 
These all exhibited great research, and were powerfully 
written. We may sincerely regret that the production 
of these articles consumed time that would have given 
us the " History of the Monastic Orders," and the 
" History of Portugal." 

The death of Southey broke up the household of 
Greta Hall. On the 8th of May, 1844, commenced 
the sale of his extensive and valuable library, which 
continued fifteen days, and realised the sum of 2900?. 
for his family. Yet the spot of his long sojourn, the 
place of his unwearied literary labours, is annually the 
shrine of many pilgrims. Dr. Mackay visited it after it 
had been deserted, and in his " Scenery and Poetry of 
the English Lakes " gives a description of the habita- 
tion, and his own feelings on finding it desolate. When 
he arrived there he found some of the shutters closed, 
and all newly painted ; " and on looking through one of 
the windows we saw," he says, c " a newly-painted and 
papered room, without furniture, and as if it had been 
but a moment before evacuated by painters and car- 
penters. This gave us hope that we could procure 
admission without disturbing any one, or appearing 
guilty of intrusiveness or incivility, of which there 
would have been some risk if the house had been 
inhabited. As, however, we were not certain that there 



296 A PILGRIM AT GBETA HALL. 

was any one inside — all our efforts to procure admission 
by knocking with our hands on the doors and windows 
having failed — we walked through the garden at the 
back of the house, reflecting reverently that we stood 
on hallowed ground. The reflection was mournful # 
The garden was neglected ; it showed that he, and she 
also, — the amiable hostess who had loved to tend it, — 
had departed. It was uncropped, and going into the 
rank luxuriance of weeds, and showed at every turn 
the want of the hand of its former mistress. In the 
midst of our stroll amid its deserted walks we saw a 
workman with a key in his hand coming up the avenue, 
and proceeding to meet him, we asked whether we 
could procure admission. He replied in the affirmative, 
and offered to conduct us over the house, which he 
informed us was to be let. As he seemed to think we 
had come on business, and had a desire of looking at 
the house for the purpose )f : "ring it, we undeceived 
him in this particular, and told him that curiosity 
alone, and respect for the memory of its late illustrious 
occupant, had induced us to trouble him. The man 
was intelligent and very obliging; and though but a 
journeyman painter, seemed as fully impressed as we 
were with the greatness of the claim that Robert 
Southey had upon the affectionate remembrance of pos- 
terity. He told us that very many persons visited the 
house solely on this account; and that there was, he 
thought, scarcely a tourist to the lake district who did 






FLOEAL S0UVEN1KS. 297 

not make a point of coming into the garden at least, 
though most of them lacked courage to demand admis- 
sion into the house. The garden, he said, had suffered 
severely from the reverence of travellers, and the ladies 
especially carried away flowers and leaves of shrubs, to 
preserve as mementos ; so that he feared, if the house 
were not let in a year or two, there would not be a 
shrub or a flow T er left. This worthy fellow led us over 
the building, which was large and commodious ; showed 
us the kitchen, the wine-cellar, the dining-room, the 
drawing-room, and the study ; each of which recalled 
painfully to our minds — at least they did so to mine — 
the bodily absence of one whose spirit yet spoke to 
mankind, and exerted an influence on their thoughts. 
The room that had been the library was especially 
painful to reflect upon. The marks on the walls 
where the shelves had been fitted were still uneffaced 
by the painter's brush, Wffc ihe beloved books which it 
had been the pleasure of his life to collect were all 
dispersed ; and not one, or a shred of one, was left 
behind of the many thousands that had formerly made 
the spot a living temple of literature. It would have 
been worth preserving for Keswick ; and I thought, 
and still think, that if the town had been rich enough 
to make the purchase of the whole property, it would 
have conferred upon itself not only an honour, but an 
advantage. We were afterwards led into several smaller 
apartments, and among others into a room of a very 

x 



298 A SACRED SPOT. 

peculiar shape, — a long, narrow, parallelogram, with a 
door in one corner, and a solitary window, looking into 
the garden, at the other, and allowing, from the thick- 
ness of the foliage outride, but little light to penetrate 
into the interior. I asked for what purpose this room 
had been used, and was told that it had been a bed- 
room. ' He died there — exactly where you are stand- 
ing,' said the painter. I felt my cheeks tingle as he 
spoke. I drew back involuntarily from the spot with a 
feeling of awe, and as involuntarily, for I did not know 
or think at the time what I was doing, took off my hat. 
I saw my companion doing the same. The painter, 
moved by our example, took off his paper cap ; and so 
all stood for some minutes, with a reverence which I 
am quite sure was sincere on the part of myself and 
my friend, and which, I verily believe, the painter felt 
as much as we did." 



London : — Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq. 



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